Behind Doors and Masks
by dragonwriter24cmf
Summary: The Carrows go too far with Neville, and someone unexpected saves his life. But when a detention with the Headmaster keeps him late, the truth he discovers is even stranger. Can the two work together and trust each other to protect Hogwarts and it's students, and maintain their fragile alliance?
1. Chapter 1

**Behind Doors and Masks  
**

**Summary: **When the Carrows go too far, an unexpected person steps in to save Neville's life. But when detention keeps Neville in Snape's office after hours, the truth he discovers is stranger still. Can the two of them work together to protect the students of Hogwarts, and each other, without revealing their strange alliance?

**Chapter One: Blood and Lives**

Madam Pomfrey looked up as the doors to the Hospital Wing burst open, and McGonagall came in, almost running, a limp body floating in the air behind her.

"Minerva...what is it? The Carrows..." Pomfrey shivered. She'd treated all too many students for the injuries the Carrows had inflicted in the past few weeks, and she was beginning to dread it. Then she saw the body being levitated behind the Gryffindor house head. "Mr. Longbottom!"

McGonagall set the boy down on the bed, her face set in tight, tense lines. "It _was _the Carrows. They said he refused an order one of them gave him...who knows what it was this time! And this...this was their answer." She waved a hand at the child, anger being replaced by concern, and not a little fear. "I knew they were vicious...but this..." She stopped the words with an effort, then spoke softly. "Can you mend him?"

Pomfrey was already bending over Neville's unconscious frame, her wand out, muttering a series of rapid spells. The first was a cleaning spell. Cleansed of blood, the gashes on Neville's face, neck, and arms were all too apparent, as well as other marks, the results of repeated and vicious cursing. Her face went pale, and she cast a quick succession of healing and diagnostic spells. She turned and flicked a wrist, summoning half a dozen potions from her stores. "Help me get these into him, Minerva."

McGonagall nodded, noting the Blood Replenisher, and several other healing remedies. The two of them spelled the potions into the boy, then Pomfrey summoned a salve to put on his wounds, and bandages by the yard. McGonagall gave a small gasp of pained shock as Pomfrey removed Neville's robes, revealing the worst of the damage, then levitated him so the bandages could be wound around him. As soon as the bandages had been wrapped, the med-witch summoned a hospital robe, then laid the youth back on the bed and covered him gently with a blanket.

"Will he be all right, Poppy?" McGonagall's voice was quiet with concern.

Pomfrey sighed. "I don't know, Minerva. The damage done to his body, and to his magic...it's very severe. His body's been so traumatized..." She pushed back a sleeve, revealing a bandage that was already stained. "He's bleeding, and I can't stop it, because it's the after-effects of so many curses. They just...they must have simply cursed him randomly until he stopped moving. Without knowing what all the spells were, I can't counter them, and the side effects..." She shuddered, her throat tight and tears shining in her eyes, though they didn't fall. "I'm not sure."

"Surely...there must be something you can do?" McGonagall looked devastated. "We can't...to lose a student like this..."

Pomfrey's lips tightened, determination in her eyes as she swiped away the beginnings of tears. "I'll do everything I can, Minerva. We'll have to pray he survives it."

Just then, the door to the Hospital Wing swung open again. Both women looked up and tensed, almost identical expressions of anger on their faces. Pomfrey spoke first. "Headmaster Snape." Her words were stiff, tight, her tone and voice indicating she'd like nothing more than to call him something far worse than Headmaster. "What brings you to the Hospital Wing this evening?"

One eyebrow rose, and then he was moving, striding toward them. "I'd heard...a student was sent to the Hospital Wing?" His voice was low. "Something about a punishment from the Carrows." The tone had almost no inflection, no sign of emotion, almost as if he asked about the weather.

McGonagall's jaw tightened. "Indeed! As if you care, Severus Snape!" She jabbed a finger at the form lying on the bed, fire in her eyes. "Since you're so interested..." The words dripped sarcasm. "Your friends, the Carrows, cursed Mr. Longbottom into unconsciousness! We aren't even sure what they used on him...or if the boy will survive his injuries!" She gestured again. "So then, Headmaster..." The venom in her tone twisted the word into an insult, as vile as the term 'Mudblood'. "See what your new teachers...your little friends, have done to the boy! And on your head be it, if he dies!" She spat the last word. "I'm surprised you even came, as he isn't one of your precious Slytherins!"

"That...will be quite enough." Snape's voice was still that cool, level tone. "Please restrain yourself." He moved forward, one eyebrow rising again as he studied the still form before him. "Mr. Longbottom, is it? I shall have to have a word with them. The Dark Lord was quite specific, that the Pureblood lines be left...unharmed."

McGonagall glared at him. "Is that really all you think of this? I knew you didn't care for the boy...but this...to think I...that Albus ever..."

"That is enough." Snape's voice sharpened on the words, his face paling ever so slightly, fire snapping in the black eyes. "I think, Minerva, that it's best if you...return to your House." The sharpness was gone as quickly from his tone as it had appeared, but the paleness of his face, and the anger that darkened his eyes, remained.

McGonagall bristled. "I'll do no such thing! If you think I'm going to leave one of my students here, after an incident like this...who knows what those brutes may decide to do!"

"Precisely why I am ordering you to return to your House." Snape shifted slightly, almost as if he was looking down his nose at her. "At present, the rest of your students remain...unguarded." A cold expression twisted across his lips, a shadow of a sneer. "And who knows what the Carrows may do? Obviously, they haven't quite learned to pay attention to orders yet. Especially not when the students insist on...disobedience." The last word was low, smooth, the tone implying the students were entirely at fault. "I'm quite sure Madam Pomfrey is capable of managing one single patient without your assistance. I shall, of course, give orders that she inform you of any change in Mr. Longbottom's condition. I shall even see that the Carrows have duties elsewhere, for the evening." One dark eyebrow rose. "I trust it will suffice?" His voice had lowered again, once more taking on that tone of cool indifference.

McGonagall stiffened under his tone, her eyes flashing fire. She clenched her jaw, then finally spoke. "I suppose it will have to, won't it...Headmaster." The word was full of acid, sharp enough to burn, and Snape paled just a fraction further. "In that case...I trust you will keep me informed, Madam?" Pomfrey nodded. "Then I wish you a good evening." She shot Snape one last, venomous glare, then turned and strode out of the Hospital Wing.

Snape waited until she was gone, then turned back to the boy lying in the bed. His fingers reached out, brushing across the bandages. His face was tight, paler than usual in the light, his jaw set in grim lines. He frowned at the stained bandages. "What, precisely, is Mr. Longbottom's condition?"

Pomfrey glared at him, but after a moment, she spoke stiffly. "He's been cursed several times. I don't know what was used, so I can't provide the counters. His wounds are proving resistant to normal treatments, and the bleeding won't stop."

Snape nodded. "You've applied the standard remedies, and Blood Replenisher, I suppose?" His voice sounded as if he was bored, more than anything else.

Pomfrey stiffened under the cool tone. "I have done everything I know how to do!" She stepped forward, her eyes flashing. "Yes, Headmaster Snape, I have supplied Blood Replenisher. And I will keep supplying it, as long as I can. But it does little good when his blood and magic is so damaged from the effects of what your colleagues call 'discipline'!"

"Indeed. I would hardly call those two my...colleagues." The word held the echo of a sneer. "You would do well to remember, they reside and teach here on the Dark Lord's orders, not mine. Of course, you're free to debate the matter with him. Though I recommend against it. Highly." The sneer had been replaced with a dry, almost emotionless tone, but there was an echo of uneasiness to it, barely discernible.

"Indeed." Pomfrey mimicked the Headmaster's inflection. "Well, tomorrow, you can most likely take to him the report of the death of one of your students!"

"I think not." Snape's voice was soft, so soft she almost missed the lack of biting arrogance, the sneer that usually lingered in his words. His fingers brushed the wounds again, dark eyes thoughtful. "I assume you've attempted to cleanse his blood of the influence of the curses?"

"Half the effects are contradictory to the other half." The anger drained out of her, leaving her numb with fear. "You know as well as I do, multiple curses usually result in a mix of conflicting symptoms."

"Indeed. In that case..." Snape was frowning. "The boy's blood needs to be cleansed by an outside, non-magical agent, I suppose."

Pomfrey glared at him. "I've tried potions, and a few of the generalized apothecary remedies Muggles use! If you've a better solution, Severus Snape, then speak up! What does the high and mighty Potions Master and Headmaster of Hogwarts recommend?"

"You're familiar, I suppose, with the Muggle theory of blood transfusion? I understand St. Mungo's has been experimenting with wizarding applications of it." One dark eyebrow was raised, but he seemed not to even notice the bitter sarcasm she'd flung his way.

Pomfrey blinked. "I...of course. I had studied it. But I wasn't aware they'd perfected a method yet...and the risks..."

"The Muggle method should suffice, provided it is done efficiently." The tone was bored, but there was a tense undercurrent running through the man's words.

Pomfrey blinked again. "But...we'd have to find a donor, match the blood types. Surely, if you know about the technique, then you know how easy it would be to give the child blood poisoning!" She saw Snape move to unwrap the bandage from one of Neville's arms, and moved forward to seize his hand. "You may be Headmaster, but I will not allow you to endanger the boy this way!"

Snape regarded her with a cool look. "I suppose you'd prefer he died in your Infirmary, of bleeding to death?"

Pomfrey flinched, her face paling as her lips tightened into an angry line. "Of course not! But I will not..."

"If you will allow me to continue..." Snape's voice was low, tense, with an edge that made her fall silent. He held her gaze with his, eyes filled with tension, annoyance, and something that resembled fear. "I am well aware of the risks. However, I would not have proposed such an outlandish notion, unless I knew of a solution. You are aware, of course, of the universal donor type?" One eyebrow raised, the cool look suggesting she might not know.

"Of course. But...that's a rare type! And how we're to find one, in a school where most students only know their blood is red...and what lineage it is...!" She sighed. "Besides...the amount needed, to affect enough change to save the boy...you know how risky it would be to ask even an adult to give so much, let alone a student!"

"Calm yourself. I know of a candidate, both able and...willing." There was a slight hesitation on the last words. The he shrugged, turning away. "I trust you can procure or conjure the necessary apparatus for this little treatment?"

Pomfrey nodded. She watched him push up Neville's sleeves, then begin to unwind the bandage from one arm. Then her eyes flicked back to the pale face. "Severus...who will you ask to do this? I will not make a request from an unwilling donor."

"I believe I already said the candidate was willing." Snape moved to set aside the bandage, and Pomfrey grabbed his arm again.

"Who, Severus?" She looked up into the black eyes. "Who?"

"I should have thought it was...obvious." The last word emerged slowly, almost reluctantly. "Given the severity of Longbottom's condition, I've no choice but to volunteer myself for this madness." He scowled.

Pomfrey let go, startled. "You? But you...you hate the boy."

The scowl deepened. "The issue of my dislike for Longbottom is not important. The Dark Lord gave strict orders for the Purebloods in the school to be left relatively unharmed. I am not willing to report to him that I have failed. Nor am I particularly inclined to suffer his wrath for the Carrows' mistake. To say nothing of the backlash within the school of the brat's death." He shook the black curtain of his hair away from his face, his eyes sharp and challenging. "Do you intend to continue this pointless argument or save your patient?"

"Of course...if you're willing." Pomfrey took a deep steadying breath, then flicked her wand, summoning a bag, two needles and some flexible tubing. "I'll need...which arm?"

Snape scowled again, then shrugged the long black robes from his shoulders. His jacket followed it, leaving him in his shirt and pants. He hesitated a moment, then unsnapped the cuff of his right sleeve and began to roll it up, revealing the pale skin of his forearm, and the blood vessels underneath the surface. He rolled the sleeve past his elbow, then extended his arm, his expression set in stone. "Begin."

Pomfrey nodded, and poured a disinfecting potion over a cloth, scrubbing his elbow. She felt him flinch slightly at the contact, but he remained silent. Working quickly, she cinched a tourniquet around his arm, then probed lightly at the joint until she found a blood vessel. It was the work of seconds to insert the needle, and Snape didn't even flinch, though she heard the hiss of indrawn breath. She hung the bag, both of them watching as it began to fill with his blood.

When the bag was full almost to bursting, she stopped the blood flow and used a charm to suspend the container above Neville's arm. It took only a minute to set the IV in the boy, and then Snape's blood was dripping down the tubing, into the unconscious student. Pomfrey waited until a quarter of the bag had emptied, then ran a diagnostic spell on the youth. If Severus had been wrong, it would show.

There was nothing wrong. The youth's body accepted the clean blood, allowing it into his system. A little color returned to Neville's cheeks.

"Will that be sufficient?" Snape spoke, his voice quiet, but biting.

Pomfrey frowned. "Another half-unit would be better, but it should suffice..."

Snape made a soft sound, then flicked his wand. Another bag appeared. Without a word, the Potion's Master connected it to the tube still attached to his arm, then whispered an incantation, and blood once more began to flow. When the container was half full, he pulled the needle from his arm and hissed another spell, stopping the blood flow once more. "I shall require a bandage."

"Of course." Pomfrey summoned a length of cloth, then blinked and stepped forward. "Here...let me..."

"I shall. It is, after all, your job to render assistance. And I have done quite enough tonight." The words were bitten out between clenched teeth. Pomfrey looked up from bandaging his elbow, startled at the tone, and saw the white tinge to Snape's complexion. She looked down. The Potion Master's hand was shaking slightly.

"You should drink something, or eat. After such blood loss..."

"I assure you, I shall be fine. I shall eat when I have returned to my quarters." Snape spoke the words, his voice soft. "In the meantime...you shall say nothing of this, to anyone."

Pomfrey blinked again. "Headmaster..."

"Tell Minerva you were able to find the proper antidote, or figure out the counters. Whatever you wish. Tell her you stole a vial of Phoenix tears from the potion stores if you must. But you shall not tell her of what I have done tonight. Mr. Longbottom need only know that you managed to save him. That is all." The words were quietly spoken, but with the same air of command he used on students. Black eyes met hers. "You will swear it, or I shall make certain you can tell no one." His hand clenched on his wand.

"Of course. My word as a med-witch on it. I'll not reveal your secret. But...why? Surely...if they knew..." Her voice softened. "You know how you are viewed, Severus. Surely..."

"No. Say nothing." He shook his head, expression fierce and unyielding. "I have my reasons."

"As you will." She studied the too-pale face again. "At least remain here and rest until we're certain. After that you can leave." She met his gaze. "I'll inform the staff I forced you to remain, as witness in case the boy died. It is true enough."

After a moment he nodded, finished dressing, and leaned back against the wall. Pomfrey half-expected some sharp remark about the waste of time, but he remained silent.

Together, the two professors watched as the last of the blood drained into the unconscious boy. Pomfrey removed the needle, then ran another diagnostic. The results were much better than her initial tests had indicated. She nodded at them, then frowned. "The blood's in his system, right enough. Now if we can just stop the bleeding before it all leaks out again."

She jumped as Snape spoke, a long liquid phrase. Magic blazed between Headmaster and student. Under Pomfrey's eyes, the slashed wounds knit themselves together, and the bleeding stopped, leaving raw, red lines of fragile skin, like new-formed scars. She turned, staring with wide eyes at the dark-haired, still trembling man against the wall. He inclined his head slightly and returned his wand to wherever it was normally stored. "Quite a useful little spell. I trust that will suffice."

"Yes." she spun back to the youth, and rattled off a quick series of healing spells. To her relief, they took, settling over the battered body on the bed, working quickly to cleanse body and magic of the foul after-effects of the curses. She finished with a few more potions, to repair the damage, then ran another diagnostic. "He'll need a few days of rest, but it appears Mr. Longbottom will make a full recovery."

"Then you have no further need of my services." Snape's voice was once more cool, disinterested. "I trust you will remember our...agreement." Before she could say anything, even thank you, he strode to the door, pushed it open, and vanished into the darkened hallways.

**_Author's Note:_**_ This has been running inside my head for a while now. Given Snape's promise to Dumbledore, and Neville's knack for trouble, this just sort of fell together. Hopefully, I didn't get them too OOC, but this was an unusual situation_

_Yes, the medical treatment is a little awkward, and not quite hospital standards. But it was an emergency, and nobody there had practiced it. So I hope nobody minds too much if it's a little outside medical conventions.  
_

_Hope you enjoyed the story so far.  
_


	2. Chapter 2: Trouble Again

**Chapter Two: Trouble Again**

Neville sighed, hoisting his bookbag onto his shoulder as he stepped out of the Infirmary door. He winced at the feeling against his still-sore shoulder, but it faded quickly enough. He sighed again, then set off for Gryffindor Tower, hoping not to meet anyone. Particularly not the Carrows, or their 'Discipline Squad'.

Madam Pomfrey had kept him in the Infirmary for four days. It would have been boring, save for the fact that he ached, and that he'd had plenty of visitors to keep him company.

McGonagall had come by with his Transfiguration homework, and a lecture about not antagonizing the Carrows. She'd called him a 'foolish boy' and scolded him, but he'd noticed she was worried about him, and he'd seen her having a long, quiet talk with Madam Pomfrey, at the other end of the ward, where he couldn't hear them.

Flitwick had also brought him homework. The rest of it had been delivered by his fellow students, most notably his fellow members of 'Dumbledore's Army'. They had, between discussion of assignments, kept him informed of what was going on. That the Carrows had laid off for a little bit, though they were still nasty. But they'd apparently received a lecture of some sort, from Snape or Voldemort. The rest of it had been brief notes on who was in trouble, and over what. However, his own punishment had been the worst event in the past week. He flinched, remembering the searing pain, the blows of spell after spell that he was helpless to prevent. He'd thought he was going to die. Now...

He still ached. But the pounding in his head that had persisted for two days was gone. So were the burning sensations in his back and gut, and the sharp stabbing pain of over-strained muscles. And more noticeably, the deep agony of the double Cruciatus they'd inflicted. Compared to what he'd felt when he'd passed out, and when he'd first awakened, the mild ache he felt now was nothing, and Pomfrey had assured him it would vanish in the next day or so.

He looked down at his arms. When he'd awakened that first day, they'd been bandaged, and he'd peeked under the wrappings to see the raw, livid lines of slash marks, though they were all sealed. Now even the lines were gone. He was really remarkably lucky. He remembered thinking that he'd be scarred forever.

He shook his head, then hitched his bag up and started for the Tower again, keeping a careful watch out for anyone dangerous. Twice he ducked into doorways to avoid Slytherins, but in the end, he made it safely to the portrait hole.

McGonagall was waiting there, her stern expression set with lines of worry. "Mr. Longbottom."

Neville stopped. "Professor." He swallowed. "Did you need to speak with me?"

"Not particularly, at this time. However, I did have some interest in making sure you arrived at your dorm without further trouble. I trust you have managed to avoid any more injuries between here and the Hospital Wing?"

"Yes ma'am." Neville ducked his head respectfully.

"And Madam Pomfrey has seen fit to clear you, and declared you fully recovered?" She still sounded worried, as if she suspected someone of throwing him out before he was well. Of course, with the Carrows, he understood.

"Yes ma'am. I'm a little stiff, and a bit sore maybe, but she says it'll be gone within a day." He swallowed and managed to look up, into her eyes. He saw worry there, clear concern. "Promise Professor. I'm fine." He looked down at his arm. "Reckon I might...might have got lucky this time."

"Lucky indeed. If Madam Pomfrey hadn't made such an effort, you could well have died." Her voice was sharp, to match the worry in her eyes. "I trust you are aware of that?"

Neville nodded. "Yes ma'am." He swallowed again. "But the Carrows..."

"I am well aware of what manner of people the Carrows are, Mr. Longbottom." He saw sympathy in her eyes, but also determination. "And I am well aware of why you might feel the wish to rebel. However, they are in charge. Their actions at this point can only be over-ruled by the Headmaster. And as the Headmaster shows very little inclination to reign them in..." Anger and disgust, and something like hatred crossed her expression. "Well, I am afraid there is very little I can do." She reached out and put a hand on his shoulder, holding him gently. "I realize it is very difficult, Mr. Longbottom, but please...do try and curb those impulsive tendencies of yours. I've no wish to write your grandmother, and tell her that her grandson has preceded her."

Neville nodded, feeling a lump form in his throat. He did love his grandmother, and she loved him too. She was a bit strict, and she'd let Uncle Algie at him for years, but still...they were family, and she took good care of him. "Yes ma'am."

McGonagall's softened. "You're a good child, Mr. Longbottom. At some point, I dearly hope I can allow you to follow your instincts. In the meantime, however, we must be patient." She patted his shoulder gently, then waved her hand, and the portrait opened. "In you go. I believe you have several homework assignments to make up, so you'd best get started."

Neville nodded again, and ducked inside, swallowing as he did so. He waited until the portrait closed, then reached into a pocket, fingering a small charmed coin that he'd had since his fifth year. A small smile reached his face, tempered by a touch of sadness. "Sorry, Professor." Then he stepped forward into the common room. Ginny, Seamus, and a number of others were waiting for him, all with books to present a pretense of studying. All of them looked up. Neville grinned. "Hey." Then he moved forward and settled himself next to Ginny, and pulled out his parchment with a smile. "Sorry I'm late, McGonagall was giving me a right lecture."

"Well, what you expect? You really got hammered there." Seamus grinned.

"He's right." Ginny smiled at him. "You know, if you want to lay low a while, no one's going to blame you."

"No. But we're going to have to be more careful." Neville smiled. "In the meantime...has anyone got any ideas?"

"Yeah. Reckon we might be able to make things a bit more uncomfortable." Lee Jordan grinned. "I've been thinking of all the stuff the Weasley twins did. That git Snape probably knows all the old tricks, but I bet our new teachers don't. And even Snape can't stop everything. And Filch might know, but he's pretty easy to avoid. So...all we gotta do is make sure we don't get caught this time."

Neville grinned, and picked up his quill. "All right then." The others crowded around. There was work to be done, after all.

The next two weeks went fairly well, or as well as it was possible for it to go. Neville managed to more or less keep out of the way of the Carrows, and the Discipline Squad. It annoyed him, having to be so careful, but he was used to it. Lee took a minor beating for standing up to one of the Slytherins, and Luna came to the two meetings they managed to have looking worse for the wear, as the students still liked to pick on her. Neville would have willingly hexed the lot of them, if he could have. But Seamus managed to hex two of the people who had injured Lee, and Ginny and two other girls, one Ravenclaw and one Hufflepuff, came to Luna's defense.

They even managed, by sheer good luck and nerve, to prank Snape. It wasn't much, a handful or two of dirt and mud coming out of nowhere in the hall by the Headmaster's office. Snape even avoided most of it, but the image of Snape dodging around the corridors was an amusing one, and they weren't caught. And, they did manage to get a bit into Snape's hair. "Might make him actually clean it for once."

Their last class Friday was Muggle Studies. Neville hated it. He didn't really know much about the Muggle world, but he knew people like Seamus, and Hermione, and Harry, who had come from it. And in just under two months of classes, he'd already seen the theme of it. There was nothing to it, except a lecture on how useless Muggles were, and how incompetent. It was all Alecto Carrow talked about, how absolutely filthy and horrid and useless Muggles were. She was full of lectures on how Muggles should be handled, her preferred methods being torture, slavery and death. It made Neville sick to his stomach, and furious. He'd missed one class, being in the Hospital Wing, and the following class he'd kept his head down, and managed to swallow his smart remarks when Alecto asked him what the value of Muggle technology was, instead answering with a mumbled 'I don't know'.

They filed into their seats, all of them gloomy. Neville settled as far to the back as he could get, and hoped to avoid any questions. He had a bad feeling about the class, one of the two he got in trouble in most often.

Alecto swept in, her usual insane sneer on her face, her wand flicking between her fingers in the mad, nervous energy she always seemed to possess. "Well, well another class." She snickered. "And not an eager student to be seen." Which was true. They were mainly Gryffindors. "Well, that can be understood, can't it? All this talk of Muggles is enough to turn anyone's stomach. So...we'll have a change of topic for the day, shall we?" A sneer crossed her face, a sort of sick amusement filling her eyes. "Today...why don't we discuss...Mudbloods. And half-breeds."

Neville felt his stomach clench, and his fists. His eyes flashed to where Seamus was sitting, only a few feet away. The other boy's back was ramrod straight, his face pale. He flicked his hand to the Galleon in his pocket, imagining the message he wanted on it. _Calm_. He felt it heat as it accepted his change, then sent the message on. He saw Seamus reach into his pocket, then relax ever so slightly.

Alecto continued. "Mudbloods...magic thieves. Unnatural creatures. And half-breeds...well, they are wizards, aren't they? They do have magic, of a sort. But really...how much magic can they have? After all, no matter how talented such a witch or wizard might appear, they are still tainted. Still have filthy blood. You can't trust them. Their blood will always tell. It's always obvious." Her gaze flicked over the classroom. "You." She pointed at Seamus. "Stand up."

Seamus rose from his seat. At Alecto's gesture, he moved to the front of the classroom. She smirked. "You...you're a half-breed, aren't you, boy?"

Seamus straightened his back. "Yeah, I am. Me dad's a Muggle, and right proud of it. So am I." A wild, challenging smile hovered across his mouth.

Alecto's wand flicked at him, a little too close. Neville tensed as it pointed at the youth, and saw half a dozen others tensing as well. Then she flicked it away, a lazy, cruel smile on her face. "As I said...blood will always tell." She flicked the wand again, then began to circle Seamus slowly. "So tell me, boy, what does your filthy Muggle father do for a living, that you're so proud of, hmm? Some high-level official, perhaps? A wealthy banker? Come now. I'm sure we're all dying to hear. Tell us why your mother demeaned herself by mixing her blood with such brutish filth."

Neville's mouth twisted. He hated when Alecto lectured, but the way she sounded, parroting things other Death Eaters had probably told her...It was twice as bad when she was mimicking that snooty, stuck up tone.

Seamus was pale, rising fury in his eyes. "Best mailman in his district, right enough."

"A mailman? A servant then. And yet, you seem so very proud of this...servant. Well, I did say blood will tell. And at least, your bastard father seems to know what he's good for." Seamus went white. Alecto smiled. "So tell me, boy, are you like your father? Do you know what you...son of a fallen witch, a blood traitor, and a filthy little serving man, are good for? Do you boy?"

Seamus swallowed. "Reckon I'm good for anything I please. Been a good Quidditch player, I have. And not a bad hand at Charms either."

"Ah...but you are _wrong._ The son of a blood traitor and a Muggle is good for only one thing, service to his betters. You were born, so that your betters, the Purebloods, would have someone for their convenience. Like that filth you call your father, you were born for nothing more than menial labor, servant to those whose blood entitles them to greater privilege." Alecto sneered the words. Then her eyes flicked around the classroom. She gestured. "You. Longbottom brat."

Neville swallowed hard, but rose to his feet. She gestured again. "Get up here, boy." Neville swallowed again, trying to force away the lump in his throat, and obeyed,moving up to the front of the classroom.

Alecto sneered as he joined them. "You...you are a Pureblood. Little brat, of course, but, no matter. You were with the Potter boy, weren't you?"

Neville tried to force back his rising anger. "Yes."

"Hmmm...well, one does sometimes fall in with a bad influence or two. And the Headmaster says we can't entirely blame you, if you've been brainwashed by fools and reflected, undeserved glory." There was something in the inflection that made him think she was repeating what Snape had said. "We'll teach you better, little brat." She gestured to Seamus. "Now then, tell us what this little filth is good for."

He saw Seamus' eyes, the white face. He knew what Alecto was waiting for, what Seamus was waiting for. He heard McGonagall's lecture on not antagonizing the Carrows in his mind. But...he couldn't say it. Couldn't demean the other boy, who'd been his friend, helped him through his Potions homework, and his Charms. He took a deep breath, looked Alecto in the eyes. "Reckon he's good for whatever he likes. Honestly, I always thought he was pretty decent in Transfiguration, myself."

Alecto's hand snapped out, striking him hard across the cheek. "Ruddy little mouth on you. Tell me, brat..." Her eyes gleamed cold madness. "Did you enjoy our last little discipline session so much? Want another taste?"

Neville felt the blood draining from his face. Alecto snorted, mingled satisfaction and disappointment in her gaze. "Right then. Try again." She gestured to Seamus. "Brat's a servant, proud of his servant father. So then...he must want to be a servant just like him. In that case...give him an order, boy. Put him in his place, since he's so proud of it."

Neville felt his stomach tighten. He was only just recovered. But still... "Right then. Seamus..." he looked at his friend, and let a twinkle of a grin cross his face. "Reckon you should tell Professor Carrow here what you really think of her. And use those terms you told us your dad uses for rainy days."

Seamus' eyes widened. "What, you mean when he calls it the misbegotten offspring of a mud giant and a soaked toad?" Jaws dropped all around the classroom. "Or when he's cursing at the drivers, like, and calls them the witless idiots with less brains than a sack of potatoes?"

"Little brat!" Alecto's hand snapped out, slapping Seamus across the face. "How dare you?" Her nails left red furrows in his cheek.

"Hey!" Neville moved. "You said he had to follow my orders. Well, I gave him an order, and he obeyed it, right enough."

"You...Longbottom." She whirled on him, her wand out. Fury danced in her eyes, then frighteningly, it faded, replaced by cold glee. "Guess you're right, boy. You did give him an order. Since you've proved you can...give another. The more demeaning the better."

"Seamus...return to your seat." Neville smirked. "You're next to Parvati, right?"

"You think a half-breed deserves to sit there?" Alecto's face was twisted. "Put him on the floor, like the inferior he is."

Neville swallowed. "No."

The mad gleam in her eyes intensified. "Defiant again, little boy? You know what it means." She smirked at him. "Detention, Mr. Longbottom. Class dismissed. Except for you." She snickered.

Neville felt cold dread settle in his stomach. He watched as the others rose to file out of the room. He saw Seamus start to step forward, but he shook his head. Seamus didn't have his protection. If he got in the way, he'd really be hurt. Seamus looked as if he wanted to protest, but Lee took his arm, and the two of them left.

There was a moment of silence between Neville and Alecto. He swallowed hard, then lifted his chin defiantly. "Well, get on with it then. Or were you planning on dragging me to the dungeons first?"

Alecto cackled. "Oh, no, boy. I'd like to, but I've got other orders concerning you." She smirked, waving her wand at him. "Headmaster wants to see you. Says you're a bad case, too much influence by little bloody Potter. Says he's got special plans for you, if you can't toe the line. So you and me...we're going up to the Headmaster's office. But you just try and run, boy, just try to get away, and I can do what I like."

He knew she would, too. He took a breath, then turned to the door and stepped out into the corridor, trying to keep his hands from trembling, and hoping he didn't look as shaky as he felt.

He didn't want to face Snape. At thirteen, the man had been his boggart. The man hated him, and always had, and the boggart incident had only been fuel on the flame, never mind the string of accidents in Potions. Facing the Carrows, and hearing about Voldemort, he supposed they were worse. But the man had an acid tongue, and a truly vicious streak.

He heard Alecto snickering behind him, and knew he wasn't managing to hide his fear. Either that, or she was enjoying imagining what Snape was going to do to him. She'd probably seen the things he was capable of, in their little Death Eater meetings.

They reached the Headmaster's office, went up the spiral staircase. Alecto knocked sharply on the door. "Got something for you, Headmaster Snape."

The door swung open, to reveal Snape settled at the Headmaster's desk. Neville fought a wave of sickness and rage crashing through him. It was just wrong, to see him there, where Dumbledore belonged. His hands clenched, but he knew even trying to do something would be foolish. There was no way he'd succeed.

Alecto shoved him forward at wand-point. "Brought you Longbottom. He defied me in class, mouthed off. Tried to incite the class to disobedience. You said you wanted to handle him personally, next time he got out of line."

Snape rose, lazily, menacingly. "So I did. Very well. You may go, Alecto."

She stiffened a bit. "Brat disrespected me. And I'm part of the Discipline Team. I've got a right..."

"You have all the rights the Dark Lord and I decide to grant you, Alecto." Snape's voice was smooth, and cold. "And as such, _I_ am perfectly within _my_ rights to tell you that I will handle it, alone."

"Boy's a problem, Snape. You ought to..."

"Headmaster Snape." He interrupted her sharply, his black eyes snapping. "And do not presume to tell me what I ought to do, Alecto. I am aware that Mr. Longbottom, like most of his housemates, has a problem with following orders. I am aware that he has been woefully infected by Potter's sense of foolish, arrogant defiance. However, I am _also_ aware that _you_ cannot seem to handle the matter without nearly killing the boy. Which, need I remind you, is a direct violation of the Dark Lord's orders."

Alecto grimaced. "Think you can do better then?"

"Well, I certainly intend to try." Snape's mouth curved in a cold sneer. "At the very least, I cannot do worse. All that effort, and the boy still defies you a mere two weeks later. Rather...embarrassing, wouldn't you say?" He shook his head. "I suggest you get back to your duties, and leave Longbottom and his foolishness to me."

Alecto scowled. "Right then. Wish you the joy of the brat." Then she turned and vanished through the door, leaving the two of them alone.

There was silence for a long moment, then Snape moved forward, stalking toward Neville, his movement menacing, reminiscent of the slow predatory glide that had terrified Neville so often in Potions, and the one year of Defense Against the Dark Arts the man had taught. "Mr. Longbottom."

Neville stiffened at the low, dangerous tone of Snape's voice. He'd heard that tone before. Snape was in a nasty mood. He wasn't sure if he was supposed to respond or not. Fortunately Snape spoke again before he could decide.

"Eighteen days ago, I was informed that you had been transferred to the Hospital Wing, with severe injuries. Apparently, not severe enough to deter your unfortunate desire to emulate Potter and his arrogant stupidity." Snape made a low sound of derision. "Neville Longbottom. Hogwarts' new...hero. As recklessly stupid and foolish as the last." He stepped in front of him. "You should be aware, antagonizing a teacher is grounds, of course, for detention, or even...expulsion."

Neville swallowed hard. Snape was really trying to intimidate him. "Well, go on then. Throw me out."

"As much as I would find personal enjoyment in the action, I fear not." A cold sneer lit Snape's face, a vindictive look that made Alecto Carrow seem tame by comparison. "No doubt, that would simply leave you to create more havoc, outside of school. Indeed, since you seem intent on so recklessly imitating Potter..." He spit the last word like acid. "I have no doubt that, like Potter, you will endeavor to embroil as many of your classmates as possible in your stupidity, even if I throw you off campus."

"Fine. Punish me then." Neville swallowed against the dryness in his mouth, and the faint quiver in his voice. "Use the Cruciatus, or whatever you prefer." He swallowed again, forcing up a measure of defiance. "Go on then. Bet you know loads of curses. Or maybe you'd just like to off me now, like Dumbledore."

Snape went absolutely white, hands clenching into fists. He even took one quick step forward, as if to strike him. Neville tried not to flinch, but Snape stopped, visibly restraining himself. He took a deep breath. When he spoke next his voice was low, soft, deadly. The control in it was frightening, especially with the fury in his eyes.

"While, it is true that I am...quite adequately versed in spell casting, I sincerely doubt I would find much joy in practicing on a child barely competent enough to hold his wand without dropping it. Nor do I dare entertain the hope that you would actually _learn_ anything from the experience, considering your recent experience with the Carrows, and your presence before me at this time. Otherwise, you may be sure, I would take _full_ advantage of the situation." There was something about the way he said that, the low, silky threatening tone, that made Neville's hair stand on end.

Satisfaction snapped in the black eyes, but Snape kept speaking as if he hadn't noticed. "Nor can I simply rid myself of your presence, tempting though the idea is. The Dark Lord has, regrettably, ordered that Purebloods such as yourself remain relatively unharmed. And as I've already stated, since letting you off campus would only give you the opportunity to create more havoc, I've no choice but to keep you where I can keep an eye on you, to prevent as much adolescent idiocy as I can manage."

Silence fell between them. Neville shifted his weight, waiting for Snape to deliver his doom. Snape didn't speak, simply watched him. The tension in the room mounted, and finally Neville couldn't handle it anymore. "So...what are you going to do with me, then?"

"Since conventional means of discipline clearly have no effect, whatsoever...I suppose I'll have to resort to other methods." Snape studied him a moment, then gestured curtly. "You will come with me."

He thought about refusing, then he saw the dangerous expression in Snape's eyes, the still roiling fury there. He gulped, then followed the black-clad form out of the Headmaster's office.

Snape led him down, then down, to the level of the dungeons and the potions classrooms. He half expected Snape to lead him to Potions, to make him scrub cauldrons or prepare disgusting ingredients. Unpleasant, but he could live with it. Then Snape turned down a different hallway, into a part of the dungeons he'd never been in before. He swallowed hard, wondering if the man was going to simply chain him down here and leave him.

Snape stopped before a door, then gestured to the wall. "Stand there. Do Not Move." The words seemed ground out between clenched teeth. The man threw open the door, allowing him a glimpse of what looked like a small lab, then slammed it behind him. Neville considered making a break for it. But this far into the dungeons, he'd likely encounter Slytherins, or the Carrows, before he got anywhere safe. Snape was clearly in a terrible mood, but at least he hadn't tried to curse him into unconsciousness yet.

There was a muffled sound inside the room, and Neville shivered, wondering what the hell Snape was planning for him. He heard a few more noises, then Snape opened the door again. He looked slightly calmer, though still clearly angry. "Inside."

Neville stepped into the room, then stopped, staring in shock. It was clearly a potions lab, but it looked like the worst disaster he'd ever had, and then some. Various plants, dirt and other things were all over the floor. The bookshelves, and storage shelves were emptied, their contents distributed about the room. Some of the containers had broken, leaving glass shards littered everywhere, and little piles of things, or puddles of liquid. He'd blown up cauldrons without having this much mess and damage created.

"Wand, Mr. Longbottom. And do not make me Disarm you for it, or I shall make your punishment far worse." Snape's voice was still that soft, controlled violence. Neville hesitated, then removed his wand from his pocket, watching warily as he handed it over. He half expected Snape to snap it in a fit of temper, but the man simply tucked it out of sight in his robes. Then Snape withdrew his own wand, and made a few quick gestures.

A bucket appeared, as well as a mop, a broom, a dustpan, and several rags. Neville blinked. "Sir?"

"For your detention, Mr. Longbottom, you will clean this entire room, and restore it to pristine condition...without magic." He made another gesture, and a list appeared. Neville glanced at it, his jaw dropping when he saw the list of things he was expected to do. Clean the light fixtures. Dust and tidy the shelves. Wipe down the table and the counters, and scrub them. Sweep, mop and dry the floor. He looked around the room. The floor alone would probably take the better part of an hour.

Snape continued. "You will remain here until everything is finished to my satisfaction. Anything you do not complete adequately you will do over, until I declare it meets my standards."

Neville flushed. "Sir...I've homework."

Snape raised an eyebrow, a cold sneer on his features. "Indeed. Then I suggest you work quickly. If such a thing is possible. You will not leave this room until you are finished with your task. Or until you have class, on Monday. Should you not be finished then, you will be required to return to complete the job."

"You're going to starve me then?" Neville swallowed.

Snape considered him, that cool, mocking look still on his face. The color, what little of it he ever had, was beginning to reappear on the thin face. "Tempting as the idea is, no doubt it would result in your fainting on my floor. Your meals will be delivered. However, you should be advised that you will be responsible for cleaning up after yourself."

Neville flushed at the tone, the implied insult to his manners. He glanced about again. "Sir, there's glass."

"Indeed. Then you shall simply have to exercise a bit of caution." Snape leaned against the doorway. "I suggest you get started. I assure you, I've no wish to spend any longer in your company than I must."

Neville felt his face flush in anger and embarrassment. Snape always could make him feel like a useless idiot. "Why'd you mess this place up then, _sir_?" He'd seen a glimpse of the room when Snape had entered and it hadn't looked like a disaster area then. He was pretty sure the muffled noises he'd heard had been Snape, trashing the place.

Snape moved forward, quick, silent, and menacing, until he was barely an inch away. "Perhaps, because you need a lesson in humility, Mr. Longbottom. And I believe a little bit of manual labor is a great encourager of such lessons. And...while you are thus engaged, perhaps you would care to ruminate on the frustration and annoyance that being forced to clean up after foolish, idiotic, unnecessary messes can engender." The last words were hissed in his ear. Then Snape jerked away and moved back to the wall, leaning against it once more.

Neville looked at the room, then at the cleaning supplies Snape had conjured. He thought about defying the man but...there was something about the fury that still shadowed his eyes that suggested he would do well not to antagonize the older man. He already knew Snape was capable of a great many things, and he didn't dare push the Headmaster past his limits. Even if Voldemort had ordered him to be left alive. He took a breath, looked back at the list of tasks, then grabbed the bucket and got to work.

_**Author's Note:** So...another confrontation. As for how it's going to go...wait and see. I'll try not to be evil and make you wait too long._


	3. Chapter 3: All is Not as it Seems

**Chapter Three: All is Not as it Seems**

Cleaning without magic was _hard_. Within an hour, Neville's hands, back, and shoulders were aching from the work. The cleaning supplies smelled harsh, foreign. He could have put up with nasty potions, but this didn't smell like anything he'd ever used before. It made his nose wrinkle, and his stomach slightly uncomfortable. It would have been unpleasant work without Snape. With him there...

Snape had conjured a chair after the first fifteen minutes, and settled into it. He'd cleared the space around his seat, folded arms and robes about himself, and was sitting, relaxed and apparently completely comfortable. Neville supposed he should be grateful he'd cleared the area, but that just meant the debris Snape had moved was in his way. And Snape was in his way. Even worse, the man watched him every minute, and practically every move he'd made was accompanied by acidic comments from the corner.

He started by trying to put things from the floor back on the shelves only to have Snape cut him off. "I believe you'll find, Mr. Longbottom, that your tasks include dusting, washing and polishing the shelves. Since you cannot use magic, I wonder how you intend to accomplish this feat, once you've made your lamentable attempt at putting everything away."

He flushed, set the objects back on the table, and began cleaning a set of shelves, trying not to cough at the smell of the cleaner, or sneeze with the dust he whisked off of them. He managed, eventually, to get them looking reasonable, then turned to Snape. "This how you want them to look?"

"Less insolence, or I shall arrange for more to occupy you. Or perhaps a silencing spell." Snape's cool gaze drifted over the shelves. "Hardly adequate, but much in keeping with my expectations of you. However, I intend you to do a better job the second time around, when you clean the dust from the light fixtures off of them. Always provided, of course, that you are even capable of finishing that simple task."

Neville looked up. There was indeed a large light fixture suspended just above and to the side of the bookshelf he'd cleaned. And even in the relatively low lighting, he could see the spiderwebs and dust on it. He looked around. There were eight more of the bloody things suspended about the room. And, as he looked, he saw the other problem. It was too high to reach conventionally, and he didn't have a ladder. The tables wouldn't do it either. He looked at the bookcase.

Snape's voice sounded again, much more dangerous. "One scuff on those shelves, Longbottom, and you'll be rubbing it out with your bare hands."

He swallowed. "Headmaster, I don't have a ladder." He wanted to sound strong, but even with the best phrasing, there was no way to make it not sound whiny. He bit his lip, knowing Snape was enjoying it. "I reckon I'll need one, to get the lights."

"And do you know where a ladder is?" There was nothing but mockery in Snape's voice now.

Neville felt himself flush. "No sir. I don't know where Filch keeps them." He felt horribly embarrassed, and angry, knowing it was deliberate.

"Then you are out of luck, and you will be here until Monday, when you can ask the caretaker to give you one. If you're extremely lucky, it may only take him a few days to remember your request and fulfill it." Snape smirked coldly, and folded his hands. "Of course, were you capable of asking for a ladder properly, and respectfully, then perhaps...quicker methods might be found."

He knew what Snape meant. The look on the man's face said it all. His stomach clenched. He didn't want to ask the man for anything. But...he was stuck until he finished his detention, and the git wasn't going to let him go till he'd done the lights. And saving them for last meant he'd have to do most of it over again. His fists clenched. Bastard had planned this.

He couldn't afford to stay here all weekend. It would mean not finishing his homework, which would result in trouble with the other teachers. And the Carrows would love another excuse to bring him in. More to the point, his fellow DA members would be looking for him, and there was no telling what sort of trouble might come up.

Neville swallowed, then lowered his gaze and forced his voice into a polite, even tone. "Headmaster Snape, sir, I really do need a ladder. If you could ask Filch to get me one, please, I'd appreciate it, sir. Or if you'd please tell me where they're stored, I'll get it myself, sir." It was all he could do to keep from turning the word 'sir' into a curse, but he knew Snape would hear it if he did.

Snape snorted. "Pathetic. But better than many of your classmates could do, I suppose. Perhaps being raised by your grandmother did manage to instill _something_ in that thick skull of yours." The man regarded him for a moment, then withdrew his wand and made a curt gesture. One of the doors on the other side of the room flicked open, disgorged a ladder, and shut again. "Get back to work."

Cleaning the lights was a painstaking and somewhat nerve-wracking task. It was hard to place the ladder amidst the mess. The bucket was hard to carry up, and he wound up spilling water on himself more than once. He had to watch his hands to avoid touching the candles and getting burned, and the dust made him sneeze. Twice he started to come down, only to have Snape admonish him, sending little flares and jinxes to show him where he'd missed a spot or failed to meet the man's standards.

By the time he was done with all nine of the bloody things, he felt like he'd fallen off a broom multiple times, and his neck had a crick in it from his position on the ladder. His feet and legs ached from the rungs. And to top it off, his stomach was growling loudly. There wasn't a clock so he could see what time it was, but he knew it was probably well past dinner time.

Snape watched him come down from the ladder, then flicked his hand. A plate and cup appeared on the least dirty of the tables, bearing two sandwiches and a goblet of water. "Eat, before I have to deal with you fainting in my lab." Neville blinked in surprise, and Snape snorted. "Rest assured, if I were in the slightest willing to put up with the aggravation of dealing with a fainting brat, I would not bother. However, as I have neither the inclination nor the time to spend being screamed at by your Head of House, I shall at least allow you meals. However..." Snape fixed him with a look. "Be advised, Mr. Longbottom, that you are required to clean any and all dishes yourself, as well as any unbroken containers you find." He flicked his fingers to a sink at the side of the room.

Neville felt his stomach tighten. The sink itself would have to be cleaned out to be usable. And given Snape's words, he knew there were going to be empty beakers and vials in the mess. He glanced around, to see if he could spot any, and noticed the corner full of cauldrons. They were stacked more or less neatly, but, like everything else, they'd been splattered with...whatever had been thrown around the room. He looked at his list, and saw it marked. Scrub cauldrons.

_Right__git._ He concentrated on eating his sandwich, and trying to ease some of the aches in his back and shoulders. He knew that saying anything would only make it worse, and he didn't want to give Snape the satisfaction. Not of punishing him for complaining, or for being rude. Nor of knowing how much he ached, and how bloody mind-numbing the punishment was. He finished his meal, moved the dishes over to the counter by the sink, and went back to cleaning.

He'd gotten the counter clean enough that Snape had stopped sneering at him for it, and was going over the tables, when Snape stiffened in his seat. His left arm flexed, almost convulsively. For a moment, Neville thought he looked angry, and somewhat paler than normal. Then the expression vanished. Snape rose to his feet and banished the chair. "It appears I'm needed elsewhere this evening. You, however, will remain here."

He pointed his hand at the doors, and Neville heard the click of locks sliding out. Snape scowled at him. "You will continue your work, or what passes for it, at any rate, until I return. When I do, if I find your progress satisfactory, which I doubt, I shall decide what to do with you." He moved to the door, then stopped in the doorway. "The room will be locked and warded. However, in the unlikely event that you manage to break the spells without your wand, remember, Mr. Longbottom, that the Carrows patrol after dark. And that any escape attempts will result in further...discipline." He gave Neville one last sneer, then shut the door behind him. Neville heard the locks click, and felt the brush of spell energy as the door was sealed.

With Snape out of the room, Neville indulged himself in a curse of frustration. He knew he couldn't break Snape's spells without his wand. He wasn't even sure he could have countered them with it. And even if he could, Snape was right. The Slytherins and the Carrows were out there, and he'd be lucky to avoid them.

He considered defying the man, refusing to work while Snape was gone. Maybe even making a further mess of the place. But that would only increase the amount of time Snape kept him locked up. And the amount of punishment he was likely to receive. Still...

He pulled out his charmed coin, knowing the others would be worried about him, and changed the message. _Safe. __NL._He sent it along, then added the short code they'd worked out for 'stay put' and 'no meeting'. The galleon blazed warmly in his hands. Only a minute later, it heated again, and he received the 'got it' code. He grinned and slipped it back into his pocket. One worry down. His fellow DA members knew not to come looking for him, and that Snape and the Carrows hadn't killed him yet. Then he sighed, and got back to work.

Snape's sniping comments over the past hours had at least given him an idea of what level of cleanliness the man expected. But it was grinding labor, and dull to boot. His hands were aching and cramping from his grip on the rags or scrubbing brushes, and the bucket. His clothes felt cold and stiff, from where he'd splashed himself. His wrists and shoulders ached from the effort he put into scrubbing, his back and legs from bending over, or crouching, or kneeling to get at the surfaces. He'd slipped a few times and scraped himself as well, and the cleaning solution stung in the scrapes. He wanted desperately to fall into bed, to collapse on the floor, or the table. But he wasn't going to give Snape the satisfaction. Besides, the sooner he was done, the sooner he could leave.

He wasn't sure how much time passed as he worked. By the time he'd finished the tables and shelves, and gone through the filth for unbroken containers, he wasn't sure he cared. He simply wanted to be done, more than he'd ever wanted anything in his life. The Carrows had hurt him worse, but at least it had been over quickly. He'd almost have preferred the sharp pain of their curses to the dull aching that seemed to have filled every part of him. Those at least he could get a remedy for.

He'd finished moving the cauldrons to the sink, and was trying to sweep the worst of the debris and dried liquids up when the door locks clicked, and Snape entered. Neville blinked. He was tired enough to want to collapse, but even so...there was something different about Snape.

He stepped into the room, moving far more stiffly than when he'd left. The eyes that surveyed the room were shuttered, unreadable, and his expression...Neville wasn't sure what he saw in the man's face. There was only the barest shadow of a sneer there as he looked around, underscored by something that looked like exhaustion and, if Neville hadn't known better, he'd say it was pain.

Snape glanced at the room, then fixed the sneer on him. "Worse than I expected. But then...being a Gryffindor, I suppose I should have guessed. Of course, I presume you want to tell me about how tired you are, and how difficult the job is." The heavy mockery in the tone dared Neville to say something.

He swallowed back his own fatigue, lifting his head high. "No sir."

"Hmph. Very well. I'd prefer to leave you till you learn your lesson, but no doubt Madam Pomfrey will claim I am...abusing you, after your injuries." Snape held him with a glare, then flicked his hand. A piece of parchment appeared in front of Neville, and he managed to catch it. "Return to your tower. You will report back here at 8am. Be prompt, or every minute you delay will result in additions to your current tasks." He gestured, and the door behind him opened again. "Get out." then, without another word, he swept past Neville and into one of the adjoining rooms.

Neville stared, to shocked to remember how tired he was. He looked down at the parchment. It wasn't very big, only containing the words: _Detention.__Permission __granted.__Headmaster __S.__Snape._

He understood what it was. It was a hall pass. That surprised him. He looked back at the door Snape had entered, thinking. The man's behavior had been strange. Releasing him from detention, even though he wasn't done. Giving him a pass that would protect him from Filch and the Carrows, even the Discipline Squad. He thought about the stiff way Snape had moved, the tired and almost pained expression he'd seen before the sneer snapped into place. Something was going on.

He looked back at the door Snape had entered. It wasn't shut quite all the way. Curiosity caught hold of him. Moving quickly, he made sure to kick some of the debris, then he slammed the door to the hallway loudly, as though he'd just stormed out. Then he turned, stepped out of immediate line of sight of the door, and began to make his way quietly over to the room Snape had entered. It wasn't easy, but the dust and dirt over the floor muffled his footsteps. And the dancing lessons he'd had in fourth year had taken some of the awkwardness out of him. Between that and all the practice he'd had sneaking about with Harry and the others, he managed. Within minutes, he made it to the door. He took a deep, quiet breath, then dropped to his knees and leaned forward to peer through the opening.

The room just beyond was an office, and from the looks of the shelves, a storage space as well. Snape stood, leaning against the desk, his shoulders tight. Neville watched as he stood there for a few moments, seeming to simply breathe. Then he straightened, slowly, his head raising. He gestured, and three different containers flew off the shelves, to settle on the desk beside him. Another gesture brought a small square of cloth, and a towel to settle beside those.

Looking at the face in profile, Neville saw Snape grimace. Then Snape shook his cloak from his shoulders, and began to undo the buttons of his robe, turning back to the desk as he did so. Within moments, the robes joined the cloak across the desk. Neville frowned. What the hell was Snape doing?

He watched the man move, and realized with a start that he was apparently undoing the buttons on his jacket as well. He blinked as the garment joined the other two, then bit back a gasp. Snape's white shirt, beneath the robes, was bloodstained. Hell, the back of it was crimson. He watched as Snape unsnapped the cuffs with the same deliberation he'd done everything else, then his hands moved as if he was undoing the buttons on the front as well. He saw the barest hint of a flinch, then Snape shrugged carefully out of the shirt, leaving it tucked in, to fall around his waist.

Neville felt his stomach clench in shock. Snape's back was a mess. Slash marks crossed it, most of them still bleeding, all of them looking as if they'd just been inflicted. He'd seen marks like that, from sessions with the Carrows, but this looked worse. It didn't look as if there was a square inch of skin that hadn't been hurt.

He felt as if he'd been hit in the stomach. A part of him felt it was no more than Snape deserved but...he'd had a couple of those beatings. He knew what it had to feel like. And part of him was screaming, trying to be sick at the sight of such wounds. Much as he didn't like the man, and had thought longingly of hexing him over the past few hours, this wasn't something he would have done. Not even to the Carrows.

He didn't mean to move, but the shock of seeing Snape's back like that caused him to flinch. He lost his balance, and toppled backward. Despite his best efforts, his knee knocked against the door frame.

Snape whirled, his expression furious. His hand slashed out, and the door slammed violently open, catching Neville by surprise and knocking him backward to the floor as it swung open.

"LONGBOTTOM!" He hadn't thought Snape could look any more murderous. He'd been wrong. The man went white with fury. Snape's hand flashed out to his jacket to get his wand, and Neville took an opportunity to jump to his feet and out of sight, then sprint for the door. He was halfway there when Snape shouted something, mostly unintelligible, and he heard the locks click. He ducked, just as a spell whizzed over his head. He dodged behind the table, and took a quick look.

Snape stood in the doorway, his expression so full of anger Neville thought it might kill him on the spot if he met those eyes. He'd pulled the shirt back up and around himself, and the jacket as well, though it wasn't straight. Neville scowled. He didn't see his wand there, in the jacket pocket. It had to be somewhere in Snape's robes.

For a moment, the Headmaster stood there, then he stalked forward into the room. Neville swallowed hard. He had no doubt he was toast if Snape caught him. This was like his worst nightmare. Trapped in a room with a furious Snape, and no wand. He bit his lip. This was almost worse than getting cornered in the Ministry by the Death Eaters. He turned his head right, then left, looking for something to help him.

He'd picked the table nearest the sink, and the cauldrons were still there. He frowned, then peeked around the table again, staying low. The door to the office was open. He thought a moment longer, then he heard the near-silent brush of boots on stone. He bit his lip, then leaped up and forward, seizing two of the cauldrons and spinning.

He was just in the nick of time. A jet of light bounced off one cauldron as he ducked again. He saw Snape's snarl, then dodged backward, avoiding another spell by sheer reflex and luck. He edged clear of the table, using the cauldrons as a shield, then abruptly chucked one at Snape, hard as he could, and ran for the office. He heard Snape snarl a curse, the snap and boom of the cauldron exploding. He whirled, caught a curse on the second one, and threw it before he even had time to guess what he'd blocked. He saw the fury on Snape's face, and dove for the doorway, sliding through and shutting it by dent of falling against it. A part of him registered that he hurt, that he felt like he'd been run over by a hippogriff, or a thestral. The rest of him was operating on adrenalin, and the knowledge he had only seconds. He slammed the lock closed to buy himself an extra second, and dove for the robe across the desk, aiming for the upper half if it. His fingers closed on a cylinder of wood, wood that felt familiar, just as the door exploded inward with a ringing crack. He ducked behind the desk, and grabbed what he thought was the handle of his wand through the cloth, his mind already focusing on the spell he needed. The desk flew out of the way, just as he got his grip and shouted a single word. "Protego!"

The light of the shield expanded around him, just in time. Another spell bounced off it. He felt the force of it shake him, but at least it held. He took a moment, then rose slowly to his feet, keeping his eyes on the man standing in the doorway.

Snape's clothing was disheveled, his hair wild, and his expression a mask of rage. The black eyes seemed to literally burn with fury. His face was white, and he was trembling with anger. He looked angrier than he had when Neville had made the comment about Dumbledore. In fact, he looked a little insane. His back was ramrod straight, stiff as a board, and the hand holding his dark wand was white-knuckled and shaking.

For a long few moments, they stared at each other. Then Snape spoke, his voice deadly soft and so cold he could have put a Dementor to shame. "Lower your wand, Longbottom."

Neville shook his head, trying to control the fatigue and fear trembling through him. "No sir. I won't let you curse me. Not if I can help it."

Snape's face went even whiter, if it was possible. "You will lower you wand, or..."

"Or what? You'll curse me? Give me detention? Kill me? Reckon you might do all of those things anyhow." Neville swallowed. He was glad he was tired now. He didn't think he'd have the nerve to challenge Snape otherwise. At least, not with the man this angry.

"You insolent...you have no idea..." Snape stopped, and Neville could see him visibly fighting to control himself. Somehow, that was worse than his anger. His voice was still soft and menacing when he spoke. "Don't think, for a moment that this..." He gestured with a sneer. "This futile effort, will spare you. However, planning _your_ demise would be far too easy, and hardly worth my time."

It took a moment for Neville to realize that Snape had more or less said he wasn't going to kill him. He swallowed. With the look on Snape's face, that wasn't very reassuring. "What are you planning to do, then? Assign me another room to clean? Or were you just going to use the Cruciatus on me?"

Snape exhaled sharply. His eyes widened just a fraction. Then he seemed to collect himself, and something changed. He was still angry, but he seemed...calmer. Collected. And much more dangerous, somehow. When he spoke, his voice had lost that edge of fury. "No doubt, you quite deserve it. However, since I have no intention of allowing you to report back what you have seen...I trust you'll create a new offense worthy of punishment. This one, however, I will regrettably have to let go."

Neville stared at him. "Hang on. You're trying to curse me so I can't say anything?"

"You honestly think I intend to let you leave, and tell your little friends in Gryffindor Tower?" Snapes expression was cold, vicious. "I'm sure they'd love to know. Tell me, how were you planning to spin it? What exact words were you planning to use? Planning to brag about being able to spy on the Headmaster?"

Neville swallowed. "I wasn't going to tell them anything." That was true. "I wanted to know why you were acting so odd, letting me off and giving me a safe pass. But I wasn't going to tell them."

"Indeed. You think I honestly believe that." Snape's sneer widened. "That a Gryffindor could possibly keep a secret. Especially one so...interesting."

Neville flushed. "It's true. I know how to keep things to myself. I haven't told anyone you saved my life three weeks ago either. Not even McGonagall." He bit his lip. He hadn't meant to say that, but it was true, and it was the only card he could play without betraying his role with the DA. "I've kept loads of secrets."

Snape's eyes widened again, his back stiffening in shock. Something flickered across his face, anger, but also something else, oddly like fear. "Where did you hear...?

"I didn't. I..." Neville swallowed, took a deep breath. "I sort of...woke up, while you were there."

"How much did you hear? See?" Snape's face had gone deathly pale again.

"I heard you tell Madam Pomfrey not to tell anyone." Neville took another breath. "I woke up, I guess while she was bandaging your arm." He met the black eyes. "I didn't want you to know I was awake. Didn't know what you were going to do to me. But I know..." He held up his free hand. "I know you gave me your blood. I heard you tell Madam Pomfrey not to tell anyone, especially not me. And I reckon, if I wasn't imagining things, that you were the one who closed up all those cuts I had. Passed out again right after that, though, didn't wake up till late the next day."

Snape's pale face was unreadable, but Neville could see the tension in him. He spoke again. "I know you saved me. I don't know why, but you did. And I haven't told anyone. I never even hinted that we ought to lay off you, so no one would ask why. Figured if you didn't want anyone to know that badly..." He shrugged.

"You didn't even ask them to lay off, is it? I take it then, that you are a member of the group of students causing trouble." Snape's voice was quiet. He looked...not shocked exactly, but still pale, and contemplative.

"I might be. But I'm not saying more than that." Neville raised his chin defiantly. "No matter how you ask, or what you do to me."

"No doubt." The black eyes were still strangely calm.

Neville blinked. He was tired. He didn't know what to make of Snape at the moment. He spoke again. "I won't tell anyone, swear I won't."

"You will not remember any of this to tell anyone." Snape's expression set in determined lines.

Neville shook his head. "I'm not going to let you Obliviate me, sir." he held the dark gaze, trying to think of a way to salvage the situation.

Snape inhaled sharply, his grip tightening once again. "Do not test me, Longbottom." His hand shifted upward. "For the last time...lower your wand."

Neville swallowed hard, but shook his head anyway. "Not until you promise not to spell me, sir. Give me all the detentions you like, torture me if you have to, but...I'm not going to let you mess around inside my head."

Snape's black eyes snapped as anger flared in their depths. "You can't hold that shield forever. And do you truly think I cannot break it?"

"I'm sure you can, sir. But you haven't." Neville took a deep breath, as an answer coalesced inside his head. "Look, you don't want anyone to know you helped me. Fair enough. I don't want to be in your debt either." He met Snape's gaze. "I'll make you a deal, sir." he swallowed hard. "I saw your back, yeah. Looks awful nasty. I reckon we've all had to patch things up after the Carrows had a go at us."

"Your point, Longbottom?" He didn't sound particularly interested, but at least Snape wasn't trying to blast him.

"You can't tend injuries like that on your own. Not well, at any rate. I help you. Debt's paid." He held Snape's gaze, trying to project his own sincerity. "I wouldn't want anyone to know I helped you, any more than you want people to know you helped me. So...we'd be even, and we'd both have a secret to keep. Fair's fair. Then you can punish me however you like."

Snape's lip curled in a sneer. "And why, pray tell, should I bother?"

Neville shrugged. "Dunno sir. Probably for whatever reason you haven't blasted me unconscious or tried to curse me half to death yet." If he was honest, he had no idea why Snape _hadn't_ done so.

"And you propose I should trust your word?" Snape's nostrils flared, disbelief plain on his features.

Neville shrugged again. "Suppose it's at least as good as yours..._sir_." He hadn't meant the last word to come out as sharp as it did, but there was no taking it back.

Snape inhaled again, that sharp deep breath that Neville was beginning to recognize as Snape trying to control himself. For a long moment, they stared at each other. Then, very slowly, Snape lowered his wand to his side. "Release your damn shield. But I warn you...one word, one breath..." He was breathing heavily, as if he was struggling with something.

"I know. You'll curse me, or give me over to the Carrows, and destroy my memories." Neville nodded. He watched Snape a moment, then slowly lowered his shield, watching warily for signs that the other man was going to try and surprise attack him. Snape didn't move. For some reason, he seemed as tired as Neville felt. Neville waited, then spoke softly. "Right. So what do you want me to do?"

Snape gestured, and the desk came back to it's position between them. Somehow, the three containers on it had gotten tangled in his cloak, and hadn't fallen off the surface. "You know what these are?" He was indicating the potions on the table.

Neville nodded. He, like most of the Gryffindors, had been using a lot of them. "Disinfecting Potion, a healing balm and a numbing salve."

Snape nodded curtly, then turned away from him. He seemed to hesitate, then set his wand on the desk, within easy reach, but also where Neville would see it, even standing behind him.

Neville took a moment to unwrap his own wand from the folds of Snape's robes. Then he folded the robe neatly over his arm and laid it on the desk, his wand on top of it. It was where he could reach it, if Snape did make a move, but also where Snape could see it. Then he stepped around the desk.

Snape turned his back on him, and Neville saw his hands move. Seconds later, the jacket was deposited on the desk once more, though it seemed that Snape very deliberately laid it away from Neville's wand. Then the Headmaster moved again, opening the buttons on his shirt once more. His back was still turned, but Neville saw him hesitate.

He reached over, started to pick up the Numbing Salve. Snape cut him off. "Disinfectant first, foolish boy."

Neville swallowed, but set the jar back down and reached for a different vial. "I can't work through the shirt, sir."

There was a moment of silence, and then Snape slowly lowered the bloodstained shirt from his shoulders, to reveal his bloodied back once more. He stood still a moment, his breathing picking up just a little, then took a half step forward and very deliberately placed his hands on the desk, palms downward. "Begin."

Neville took a deep breath and picked up the cloth that Snape had set on the desk. His heart was racing. He couldn't really believe he was doing this, or that Snape, of all people, was going to let him. He wondered what in Merlin's name had made the man trust him, made Snape think he wouldn't hurt him. Then he saw the way Snape's hands rested on the desk, the tension in his shoulders, and his stomach clenched. Snape didn't trust him not to hurt him. He'd seen people with shoulders set like that. It was the way most of them looked when they faced the Carrows. For some reason, the knowledge made him feel oddly ill.

He shook the thoughts away, and turned his attention to the man's back. There were well over a dozen slashes across the narrow back and shoulders. Neville swallowed again, poured some of the disinfectant over the cloth, and began to dab carefully at the wounds, starting at the left shoulder blade.

Snape hissed, and his fingers clenched on the desk. Neville felt him stiffen. A year ago, those sounds and movements would have sent him scrambling for a place to hide, or at least a way to look inconspicuous. Now...he could almost sympathize. He knew the disinfectant stung like hell. He worked as quickly and carefully as he could, cleaning the wounds, wiping away the blood. His stomach lurched again when he realized that the red lines of slash marks were layered over the scars of other wounds. He swallowed back bile, and tried to get a handle on the conflicting emotions whirling through his head.

On one hand, the idea that anyone would have that many wounds made him feel ill. On the other hand, it was Snape. The man had terrorized him throughout his time at Hogwarts, in class and out of it. He had belittled the Gryffindors in every way possible, even Hermione. He'd treated Harry like rubbish. They hated each other. And he'd heard, from just about everyone, that Snape had murdered Dumbledore. He was a Death Eater, and a vicious git to boot.

But...he'd also saved his life. Given his own blood. There was no reason for Snape to have even come to the Hospital Wing that night, let alone sacrificed his own blood to save a student he'd made no secret of absolutely despising. Never mind the spell that had closed his wounds and stopped him from bleeding to death. It reminded him that Snape had also taken over his punishment from the Carrows. The Carrows had specifically been sent to Hogwarts to enforce the Dark Lord's will. There wasn't much reason, if any, for Snape to have intervened. His version of punishment was certainly it's own form of hell, and pretty rough, but nothing like the vicious, mindless torture the Carrows inflicted.

The two things just didn't add up. He wanted to hate the man, but he couldn't shake the image of him standing, white-faced and shaking, in the Hospital Wing. To say nothing of the bloodied back before him. There was something going on that he didn't understand. He had a feeling that nobody did, except for the man in front of him.

He finished with the potion, and reached for the Numbing Salve next. This time, Snape didn't stop him. He could hear the man's breathing, rough and strained, but Snape said nothing. Neville frowned. That was strange too. He would have expected at least half a dozen snide remarks about his clumsiness, or some other such thing. He shook the thought away, and began to smooth the salve over the wounds he'd just cleansed.

It felt odd, actually touching the man. Somehow, he wouldn't have expected Snape to be...warm. And for all the jokes floating around the school about the 'greasy git' and the 'slimy potions professor', he wasn't either of them. His hair was oily, but the rest of him was clean and neat. Rather like his clothing, now that Neville thought about it. Of all the professors, Snape was one of the most careful in how he dressed, and neatness of his appearance. Neville shook the thought away. Snape was still a bastard, and a murderer. He was doing this to pay a debt, and that was it. He didn't need to think about things like that.

He heard Snape exhale as the salve went to work, and the tension in the narrow shoulders relaxed just the tiniest bit. The hands on the desk unclenched slowly. He worked carefully, making sure to rub the salve over the entire back, from shoulders to the waistline. Then he set it down, and picked up the healing balm to repeat the procedure, noting how stiff the professor still was. He wondered, in the back of his mind, if Snape was as uncomfortable with the physical contact as he was. And why the grim satisfaction at that idea felt wrong. He pushed those thoughts aside as well, and focused on what he was doing, absently noting the distinctive smell of dittany in the mix. There were other herbal scents he recognized as well, and it was far easier to think about them than it was to think about what he was doing.

Snape remained silent as he finished. Then, without a word, he stepped away, putting the desk between them, and pulled the bloody shirt back over his shoulders, covering himself. It took him only a few moments to button it, straighten it, and then don the jacket, restoring his appearance to normal. Neville felt a touch of unease. For some reason, he couldn't help thinking that Snape had far too much experience setting himself to rights. He couldn't help wondering why.

He realized he was done, and it was late, and Snape had dismissed him, before this had happened. He took a step back, toward the door, only to gasp as Snape's hand shot out and seized his arm in a firm grip. He tried to break free, but Snape had a grip like iron manacles. He watched, helpless, as the Headmaster grasped his wand and pointed it at him, in general area of his hand.

Magic flashed through him as Snape chanted, a spell he'd never heard. He felt as if something settled in his head, like someone had dropped a box over part of his mind. It felt weird. Then Snape let go, and he was left rubbing his wrist as the man stowed his wand and reached for his robe.

For a second, he was simply stunned by how fast had all happened. Then outrage replaced the shock, and he felt himself flushing. "What was that? You said you wouldn't spell me, you ruddy..."

"Mind your tongue." Snape fixed him with a sharp glare that snapped his mouth shut, even furious as he was. "I said I would not Obliviate you, and I have not done so."

Neville swallowed back his first retort. Snape was right. He could still remember the night in the Infirmary, and what he'd just done. "What did you do then?" Snape raised an eyebrow, a mocking sneer on his face, and he quickly rephrased the question. "What did you do to me, sir?"

Snape smirked. "As you so deftly pointed out, you now possess my blood, Mr. Longbottom. I have merely used that fact to place the same constraints regarding speaking of this matter that I impose upon myself. In a word, you will not be able to speak of this, unless I agree you may. Unless it is to a person I deem trustworthy. Which, needless to say, does not include any of your rebellious teenage friends." The smirk widened, though somehow, even that expression looked strained and tired.

Neville blinked. He hadn't known it was possible to put blocks like that on things one could think, or say. Or that it was possible to do so with another person. He shivered. It was a bit like the Imperius Curse, and he wasn't sure he liked it. Though he had to admit, he would have been impressed, if it hadn't been Snape. And if it hadn't been his head the man was messing with. Another thought occurred to him. "Did you read my thoughts or something?"

Snape snorted. "I would hardly wish to involve myself in what passes for thoughts in the mind of any teenager, Mr. Longbottom, particularly of the idiotic Gryffindor variety."

The contempt in the voice was oddly reassuring, for Snape at least. That was how he'd spoken to most of Neville's class for the past six-odd years. He nodded. "Reckon I'll leave then, unless you were planning on keeping me."

Snape shook his head. "You may leave. However, you are still expected here at 8am to resume your detention. Which will now include cleaning up the remains of the two cauldrons you saw fit to throw at me." A cold sneer lit Snape's face. "Speaking of which...for your insolence, and your disobedience, to say nothing of assaulting me...you will now not only finish this detention, but serve another two month's worth."

Neville bit his lip. "But that means...it'll put it till almost Christmas. And what about homework, and exams?"

Snape sneered. "You will simply have to find a way to manage." He gestured with his wand, and the door to the other room unsealed itself and swung open. "Now get out."

"Yes sir." Neville whirled and bolted out the door, before Snape could think of something else to do to him.

He made it all the way to Gryffindor Tower without getting caught. Once inside, he accepted everyone's sympathies, and told them the situation. He hadn't planned to mention the odd episode with Snape anyway, but he found that even considering it made his mind simply...slide away from the concept. But he didn't really have time to think of it much. He was tired, he ached, and the clock said it was something around two in the morning. He wasn't going to get much sleep before he had to get back to detention with Snape. His last thought, before he fell asleep, was that there was something off about the whole thing.

_**Author's Note: **This is the ice-breaker between them.  
_

_I know it does seem kinda OOC for Snape to let Neville help him. On the other hand, his back hurts, he's exhausted, and everyone in the castle hates him. He wouldn't let the Carrows come near him in that condition, same for the Discipline Squad. And I doubt even Filch will help him voluntarily. At least Neville's willing, and has a halfway decent reason.  
_

_The spell Snape uses is NOT cannon, probably a combination of Legilimency, and something like a blood ward or Fidelius Charm. Snape has been identified as able to create his own spells, so this is just something he created to protect his secrets.  
_


	4. Chapter 4: Pictures Talk

**Chapter Four: Pictures Talk**

The rest of the weekend passed in a blur of detention, and frantic after hour studying to get his homework done. The cleaning took him most of another day to finish, and afterward Snape set him another round of tasks. Moving stuff, sorting it. More cleaning. Writing lines. Snape was creative and varied in his punishments, and all of it was either back-breaking or hopelessly frustrating labor. In some ways, he thought the man might be worse than Umbridge, even. He rose every morning aching like he'd run a race, then fallen off a broom and through a tree, and went to bed every night feeling beaten and exhausted. His housemates sympathized, and saved him food and something to ease the aches, but he had to admit Snape's punishment was effective.

Once the week started, he found himself getting up early for classes, so he could do his work before hand. Every evening, once his last class was over, whatever professor was in charge of him would take him to Snape, and he would spend the next several hours performing manual labor, with the man making snide comments in the background.

Neither of them mentioned the events of Friday evening. Neville was just as glad. He felt uncomfortable, thinking about what had transpired between him and Snape. He felt odd just thinking about the man. He still hated him, for being a Death Eater, for killing Dumbledore, and for being a vicious bastard. But the hatred was tempered with the memory of a man saving his life, and a man with a bloody back, standing tiredly in a darkened office, planning to tend his wounds alone.

He tried not to think about it too much. Instead, he remained focused on his classes, and keeping abreast of what the other members of DA were doing. Seamus and Lee Jordan had gone out and done a couple corridors with the standard 'DA still recruiting!' and a few slurs against the Carrows. They'd been lucky not to get caught, but they thought it had been worth the risk.

Then on Wednesday, a week and a half after he'd gotten detention, there was a group effort by the Ravenclaw girls in their group, and a few Gryffindors. One of the half-blood students had been taught something called oragami, folding paper, and folded a number of birds and other flying animals, which were then charmed to flit around the castle, tweeting random sayings such as 'Dumbledore Forever!' and 'Down with the Dark Lord!' and so forth, for half a day. Since it was a group effort, it couldn't be traced back to any one person. It was a brilliant success, and it frustrated the Carrows, the Discipline Squad, and Snape to no end.

Thursday night, after Transfiguration, McGonagall led him up to the Headmaster's office. "The Headmaster has been called to an...urgent meeting." The twist of her lips and disgust on her face told him all he needed to know about what type of meeting it was. Death Eater. "He left instructions. He said you are to scrub the stairs and landing, without magic." She gestured to a bucket that had been left for him, and scrub brush. "Should you finish before his return, you are to enter the office. There will be an assignment waiting for you." She scowled. "I'm afraid I'll have to take your wand, Mr. Longbottom."

Neville nodded and handed it over. "Yes, Professor. Reckon I'd rather you take it than him." Though Snape had never actually done anything to or with his wand, when he thought about it.

"Quite." McGonagall took it, and put it in her robes. "I shall give it to one of your classmates, to hold for you until you return this evening." She turned to go, then turned back. "And Mr. Longbottom...do try not to antagonize him any further, won't you?"

Neville nodded, and watched as she descended the stairs. Then he turned back to the bucket, and picked up the brush with a sigh.

The past several days of experience had taught him how to do the job quickly, and thoroughly. Still, it was awkward, trying to sit on the stairs and scrub them at the same time. By the time he finished, there was a familiar ache in his back and wrists, and his hands were sore. He grimaced. The steps were certainly clean, but he figured Snape would find something to complain about, and probably make him do it over. But the man hadn't returned. He sighed, then headed back up the stairs, staggering a little at the pins and needles in his legs, from kneeling too long.

When he opened the office door, he spotted a small desk, with several sheets of parchment on it, and a quill. He walked over and looked. There was one piece set in the center of the desk, covered in black writing. He frowned, and picked it up to read. It was a set of lines.

_ I shall not disrespect or disobey my teachers. 500._

_ I shall not willfully antagonize the professors or other students. 500._

_ I shall not indulge myself in foolish, idiotic displays of ill-judgment. 500._

_ I shall not knowingly disrupt my classes, or the workings of this school. 500._

_ I shall not attempt moronic displays of defiance. 500._

_ I shall not recklessly endanger my classmates with my stupidity and arrogance. 500._

There were other lines, each with the same number beside them. Then at the bottom, another note.

_Write __neatly. __Poor __penmanship __will __result __in __restarting __the __assignment. __Oversized __or __illegible __writing __shall __result __in __the __same._

_- Headmaster__S.__Snape._

He felt his face turning crimson, then going pale as he realized what they were. Lines, like he'd been assigned before. He was supposed to copy each line 500 times. He counted them up, his stomach lurching as he realized that Snape had set him over 3000 lines to write. Just the thought of it made his hand ache.

Dull anger flooded through him, not only at the size of the task, but at the insulting slant to most of the sentences. Neville shook his head. There was no way he'd be able to concentrate properly when he was this flustered. He took a couple deep breaths, then began to pace, breathing deep and stretching to rid himself of the ache in his back. He looked around the room, distracting himself by looking at the portraits of the the Headmasters. Some of them were so old the frames were almost crumbling. Curious, and relieved to be thinking about something else, if only for a moment, he began a slow circuit of the room, looking at the pictures, trying to see how many he could remember from history class, or random reading. And playing a mental game of guessing which House they'd been in when they were students.

He was halfway around the room when he spotted a golden frame, just behind the Headmaster's desk. He frowned. It was an odd place to put a picture, completely hidden by the desk and the tall chair. And there was plenty of room on the walls, so it couldn't be because of lack of space. And there was something, even at that awkward angle, that looked familiar about the painting. Curious, he strode over and ducked down to get a better look. His breath caught in his throat.

There, on the wall, was the last portrait he'd ever expected to see. He checked the title, to make sure he wasn't dreaming. **_Albus __Dumbledore_**. And the dates of his tenure. His knees gave out, and he sat down on the floor, hard.

The portrait regarded him with a kind smile. "Ah, Mr. Longbottom. An unexpected pleasure, to be sure."

Neville swallowed. "Pro...Professor Dumbledore." he swallowed hard. "Is it really you sir?" He knew the question was stupid. A portrait couldn't polyjuice itself, or cast an illusion charm or anything. But he had to ask.

"Indeed it is, dear boy. Though I would venture to say, not as you once knew me." There was still a kind smile in his face. "But I wonder...what brings you to this office, at this hour?"

"Detention, for Professor Snape. I'm meant to be writing lines, sir." Neville swallowed again, feeling his mind whirling with questions.

"Headmaster Snape, Mr. Longbottom. And if you are meant to be writing lines, then you should probably get to work. I do not believe the current headmaster is quite so forgiving of idle hands as I was." The smile took the sting out of his words.

"I know sir. But I..." Neville bit his lip. Then the question exploded from him. "Sir...why are you here?"

"This is the Headmaster's office. Every Headmaster, no matter how long or short their reign, has a portrait in residence."

Neville flushed. "I know sir. Hermione mentioned it once. But sir...why are you in the office? I mean, even if your portrait's here, I know you can move around the castle. And I wouldn't have thought..." he stopped, wondering how tactless it would be to say what he was thinking.

"You wouldn't have thought...what, precisely, Mr. Longbottom?" The smile had faded, replaced by a very serious expression.

"Well, I just...everyone says Snape murdered you, on You-Know-Who's orders. I guess...I reckon, if it was me, that I wouldn't want to stay in a room with my own killer, sir."

"Ah. A reasonable confusion, Mr. Longbottom. However, I believe you may be laboring under a grave misunderstanding, regarding the current Headmaster."

Neville blinked. He hadn't thought to hear something like that. _Dumbledore's __defending __Snape?_ For a moment, the sheer surprise struck him dumb. Then he thought of the oddities he'd noticed, the little things that had been bothering him. He took a breath. "You mean...Professor Snape never murdered you? Harry said he did. He said he saw it." He could still remember the look in the other boy's eyes, when he'd spoken of it. Angry. So full of fury and grief that even the memory made him shudder.

The painted figure nodded. "Harry did indeed witness my death. And it is true, that Professor Snape did indeed take my life that night. However, that is not the misunderstanding that I am referring to."

Neville felt his stomach clenching. He wasn't sure he wanted to know. But if he didn't ask... he had to ask. "Then what am I mistaken about, sir?"

Dumbledore regarded him with solemn eyes. "That, my boy, is a very sensitive subject, one that cannot be spoken of without much consideration."

Neville nodded. "It's a secret, you mean." he took another deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. "I reckon you could probably tell me then. I already know a few secrets about him." To his surprise, the block on his thoughts remained quiet. "Professor Snape saved my life a few weeks back, and he made it so I wouldn't tell anyone."

"I see. In that case...perhaps you are right." Dumbledore shifted in the portrait frame, settling back. "The misunderstanding that you, and indeed most of the wizarding population, operate under, is that of motivation. On the night of my death, Professor Snape did not take my life on the orders of the Dark Lord." he paused, and Neville felt his stomach clench. "The orders that Professor Snape acted on were mine."

He felt as if he'd been hit in the gut with a Bludger. Possibly more than one. He felt dizzy, as he had the first time he'd fallen off a broom. He took a few deep breaths, trying to steady himself, then looked back at the portrait. "Yours, sir? But...why?"

"Because, shortly before the start of the school year, I was afflicted with a curse, one that I knew was to end my life within a year. In addition, I had been aware for some time that the Dark Lord planned to send assassins to end my life, and I was uncertain of my abilities to prevent them. Nor did I wish to expose the students to such danger."

Neville swallowed, his mouth dry. "Sir...who...?" he stopped as the image held up a hand.

"Their identities are irrelevant. Suffice it to say, I did not wish to end in the hands of such beings as, perhaps, the Carrows. Or one such as Fenrir Greyback."

Neville shuddered. "I think I understand, sir. But why Snape...?"

"Professor Snape, Neville. Or Headmaster." The portrait corrected him gently. There was a moment of silence, then he spoke again. "I chose Professor Snape for several reasons. One, because he was the only one aware of the curse I was struck with, and the full severity of it's effects. And second, because I knew that he was less a stranger to the dark spells than some of the other members of my staff. He had some...mental tolerance them, perhaps one could say. I also believed, as I was justified to do, that he would give me a far quicker and cleaner death than another of the Dark Lords circle was likely to do." he paused. "And last, but not least, because being the author of my murder would allow him to remain in good standing with the Dark Lord, where I desperately needed him to remain."

Neville felt his head reeling. The concept of Snape delivering a mercy killing set his world on edge. In fact, everything Dumbledore was telling him set his world on edge. He fought to get his mind settled, and forced himself to ask the next question that rose to his mind. "It didn't...it didn't hurt you then. When he..."

Dumbledore smiled gently. "Hardly at all, my dear boy. Professor Snape is, as you may have guessed, a very powerful wizard. I do not remember all the details, of course, but I know what he cast. There was no time for me to feel anything, I assure you."

Neville swallowed hard. Then forced up the next question. "You said...you needed him to remain in good standing with...with You-Know-Who. I...don't understand. He's...he's a Death Eater, isn't he?"

"In a way. However, he has also been my friend, and an invaluable ally, for a good many years. Much of the information we have used to keep the darkness at bay has been provided by Professor Snape."

Neville blinked. "But then...the other Professors...I mean, they act like they hate him. Even Professor McGonagall. If he's really...I mean, if he's not really like the rest of them..."

There were lines of sorrow on Dumbledore's face now. "It was essential that no one learn of my final request to Professor Snape. Not only would they have tried to stop me, but had the Dark Lord gotten his hands on any of them, he would have learned the truth. And I fear, many of them would have been unable to act the part, to convince the Carrows that they thought him a Death Eater. Especially at this stage of the game, this final struggle between Harry and his nemesis, he cannot be revealed." he sighed. "I fear I have caused Professor Snape much undue stress, making such a choice, but it cannot be helped. And unfortunately, he himself believes this to be the best course."

"You mean...they don't know?" Something like nausea rolled through his gut, thinking of what it had to be like. Murdering your leader, employer, mentor, whatever relationship the two men had had, on his own orders. Having your own allies turn on you. It would be like him murdering Harry because Harry told him to, and not telling the other Gryffindors. His stomach churned. He couldn't even picture the idea, let alone imagine going through with it. "But why...?" He swallowed. "Why...if you're gone, and if everyone who worked with you thinks he's evil...then why does he need to be on...on You-Know-Who's good terms? Why would he agree to that?" He'd always thought the man far too much of a selfish bastard for anything of the sort.

"Because, I require him to help young Harry in his final task, so the Dark Lord can be defeated. And also..." Dumbledore's eyes were grave again, and sad. "I needed someone who could watch over the students in my stead. Someone who would have enough power to truly protect them. While I realize that Professor McGonagall and the others do the best they can, I required someone with a little more...leverage."

Neville felt as if he'd gotten hit with a Bludger again. "You mean...he's a Death Eater, he's done all this...so he can...keep us safe?"

"Precisely. Given the rumors that you know, I believe you may understand, yes?" Dumbledore regarded him with wise eyes.

He thought of the rumors in school. Snape was the Dark Lord's most favored servant. The position of Headmaster was his reward for killing Dumbledore. Snape had the Dark Lord's trust where no one else did. Even some saying Snape was the next Dark Lord in training, and more than that.

Suddenly, all the little oddities clicked into place. Snape saving his life. Snape rescuing him from the Carrows. Even the lines sitting on the desk took on a whole new slant. He remembered the words Snape had hissed in his ear, that first night. '_Perhaps __you __would __care __to __ruminate __on __the __frustration __and __annoyance __that __being __forced __to __clean __up __after __foolish, __idiotic, __unnecessary __messes __can __engender.'_He wondered what else Snape had been doing, that he hadn't noticed. What he'd done that none of them had noticed.

Another thought struck him. "Sir...when we formed that group in our fifth year..."

"You are speaking of the defense group, which you called Dumbledore's Army?"

Neville nodded, a slight flush rising to his cheeks. "We wrote our names down, as sort of a pact with each other. Do you know..."

"You wish to ask me if Professor Snape knows. That particular parchment was burned. However, Professor Snape did indeed have a chance to read it before it was destroyed."

Snape knew. He swallowed hard. Snape might not know all the new recruits, but he knew who had been in the old army, which meant he knew all the leaders. Ginny. Seamus. Luna. Himself. And quite a few others. And yet...he knew the Carrows were out to find any rebels in the students. He knew they were furious over the pranks, the rebellion, the messages they'd written on the walls. The defiance. And he knew Snape, Headmaster, Death Eater...he was likely supposed to be helping them. And yet...

Neville swallowed. "He didn't...he hasn't told them. He didn't...he didn't tell the Carrows." It came out as a whisper.

"I do not believe so. Certainly not at any time they have reported to him in this office." Dumbledore was watching him.

"He...he's supposed to be...controlling us. Weeding out the rebels and the half-bloods and stuff like that, isn't he?" It only then occurred to Neville that he'd never heard Snape use the term Mudblood, or half-breed.

"That is quite likely the case." Dumbledore spoke calmly.

Neville felt the blood rushing from his face, and ice in his stomach. "Sir...why did you tell me all this? I mean, if it's supposed to be a secret..."

Dumbledore gazed at him a moment. "Because, Mr. Longbottom, however it came about, it appears that you had already glimpsed the truth about Professor Snape before this. And, while I freely admit that he is a brilliant, and very powerful man, I do not believe he can, or should, attempt this alone. No more than I would ask young Harry to stand against the Dark Lord on his own. It is possible that, by knowing the truth, you may be able to assist professor Snape. And that, perhaps, may make all the difference in the end."

Neville bit his lip hard. It seemed outrageous, that he could help Snape. And yet, he had, that night in the dungeons. And really, it was no more outrageous than the concept that he, shy, clumsy Neville, would be leader of a group of teenage underground rebels, fighting against You-Know-Who.

Dumbledore watched him with kind eyes, then smiled. "I think, perhaps, we have talked enough this evening. And, I believe, you have an assignment to begin. All I ask is that you consider my words."

Neville nodded woodenly. "Yes sir." Then he rose and staggered over to the desk, his mind spinning.

Snape had murdered Dumbledore, not out of hate or anger or on Voldemort's orders, but out of mercy, on Dumbledore's orders. He wasn't a Death Eater, but a spy helping protect the school. Helping Harry. It seemed too odd to be true, too unreal. But he couldn't dispute the source, nor the evidence he had in front of him. And not just that.

Snape was alone. Working alone in his battle. Neville knew Harry had Ron and Hermione with him. He had all the members of the DA working with him, and the sympathy of most of the teachers. He imagined trying to shoulder the burden by himself, and shuddered. No wonder the man had trashed a room, and acted like a rotten bastard. It was a wonder he hadn't cracked entirely.

Another thought rose to his mind, unbidden. Snape was supposed to be stopping Dumbledore's Army. He was supposed to be enforcing Voldemort's will. But he hadn't revealed the names he knew. He hadn't gone after them. He had even taken Neville himself into a kind of protection, rough though it was, knowing he was a leader, or at least member, of the student rebels.

He remembered something he'd heard Snape say, and the Carrows too, for that matter. That the Dark Lord did not appreciate failure. Not failure to follow orders, or failure to complete the tasks he assigned. Which meant...if Snape was meant to be weeding out the rebels and the 'unfit', then Snape...

His mind went back to the meeting Snape had been summoned to that night, the red, bloody furrows that had been all but carved into the man's back. The scars that marked him. He bit his lip. Snape was being tortured. For them. For the students, and the DA members. Punished and made to suffer for his failure to give them up. He wondered what failure Snape had committed, to have that done to him. His stomach heaved, and he swallowed back bile. He didn't want to believe it, but Dumbledore's words, and the truth he'd seen with his own eyes was unmistakeable. Snape had been brutally wounded, for their sake. Possibly even for _his_ sake.

If he'd been told, at the start of term, that Snape was going to take the fall for what the DA did, he would have rejoiced. He'd have encouraged even more stunts than he had, and smiled at the thought that Snape was getting what he deserved. But now, knowing what he did, knowing the truth...he wanted to be sick. Snape was a bastard, but this...he wanted to cling to his fear and hatred of the man, but he couldn't seem to work up the rage.

The words Snape had spoken rang in his ears again, taking on a whole new meaning. He felt his stomach churning, the blood rushing from his face at the thought. How many times? How many times had their pranks, or defiance in class, or midnight grafitti sessions (as Seamus called them) resulted in Snape with his back laid open, or his body shuddering from the effects of the Cruciatus? Or perhaps worse? And...he'd endured it alone, then come back to an empty office to tend his wounds alone, and emerge into a school filled with people who hated him, and probably wished him dead at least once a day. The very people he was protecting.

His stomach roiled again, and he swallowed hard, grateful he hadn't eaten much since lunch. He closed his eyes, forcing himself to take deep breaths. He couldn't think about it. He couldn't stand to think about it. He wanted desperately to rush out, to shout at everyone that it wasn't what they thought. But that would make everything the man had done count for nothing. He wanted to forget everything he'd just heard, what he'd seen over the past few weeks, and go back to treating the man like he was a boggart. But the words kept ringing in his head, and he kept seeing images. Snape, giving him blood. Snape injured. He wanted to confront Snape, but he couldn't. He'd have to wait till the man came back.

He needed a distraction. His gaze fell on the lines on the desk. He swallowed hard once more, then pulled a fresh sheet of parchment to him. His hands weren't quite steady as he started, and he knew the first few lines would never pass Snape's inspection. He kept writing though, until his nerves finally calmed, and his hands stopped shaking. Then he chucked the paper away, and started again, focusing his attention on getting everything exactly right. It was a welcome relief.


	5. Chapter 5: Bargain Struck

**Chapter Five: A Bargain Struck**

He was finished with the first set of lines, and starting the second, when the door to the office clicked, and Snape strode in. Neville jumped, startled, then watched as the man moved across the room toward him.

Snape didn't look too much worse for the wear. But he was pale, and he looked tired. He stalked to the desk, leaned against it and picked up one of Neville's sheets of written work. Neville saw his hand shaking slightly. He looked up into the Headmaster's face, and _saw_ the mask of cool indifference, the trademark sneer, drop into place over the features. "Hardly adequate. But I suppose you regard it as your _best_ effort. Since it is, at least, barely legible, I suppose I'll have to accept this wretched scrawl." Black eyes came up to meet his. "Rather...pathetic. Raised in a Pureblood family, and you still write like a Muggle-born toddler."

Neville felt himself flush, but he was concentrating too much on paying attention to Snape. He'd gotten almost used to the man while serving detention with him, and despite the biting sarcasm, he didn't sound as sharp as usual. Actually he didn't even sound that annoyed. Just tired. Weary. He'd never been around Snape long enough to tell the difference before. Then Snape dropped the paper on his desk. "Return tomorrow, after class, to finish." He turned away.

Neville swallowed. He remembered the prank pulled the day before. It had been excellent, but...given what he'd heard from Dumbledore's portrait, he could guess what the effects had been for the man before him. He didn't mean to say anything, but the words escaped his lips anyway. "You ought to sit down, sir."

Snape spun, black eyes snapping. "I beg your pardon?" He came back a step, his voice once again low and dangerous. "Insolence, Mr. Longbottom?"

Neville swallowed again, to decrease the dryness in his throat, and shook his head. "No sir. But you look wiped out."

Snape's eyebrow rose, a sneer curling his lip. "Indeed. I'm sure that concerns you a great deal. Or perhaps, a change of tactics? You think I'll let you out of detention, if you pretend to be concerned? Perhaps our little...incident, a few days ago leads you to believe that false sympathy will result in a reduction of your sentence?"

Neville shook his head again. "No sir. Reckon I wouldn't have cared, even if you looked half-dead. Only..." His eyes cut to the desk and chair, hiding the portrait. "I had a word with Professor Dumbledore tonight. With his portrait I mean."

Snape stiffened, nostrils flaring, eyes wide, shock written into the thin features. Neville tensed, wondering if the man was about to attack him, or hex him for snooping. Then Snape whirled and stalked over to the desk, all but snarling. "What did you tell him?"

Dumbledore's voice sounded from behind the chair. "Only the truth, Severus. Nothing more. And a great deal less truth than I might have."

Snape cursed, his hand on the chair clenching tightly. "Senile old fool. Do you have any idea..."

"Indeed. I have several of them. I suggest you calm yourself. Surely, even despite your current anger, you can see the value Mr. Longbottom represents?"

"No." Snape's voice was icy. "I am not such a fool as to involve an untrained brat, and a Gryffindor besides. Nor indeed, any child in this school. Or did you forget the stipulation under which I worked for the last year, and the oath that you, yourself, demanded I swear?"

"I have forgotten nothing. But even the strongest man needs assistants. I know Harry has his friends, Miss Granger and Mister Weasley, and others. However, I suspect, given the course of action you have chosen for the past year, that you are largely...isolated."

The knuckles of Snape's hand went white. "You know very well why! Do not use that against me, Dumbledore!" his voice was rougher than Neville had ever heard it, harsh and ragged.

"That is not my intention, Severus. However..."

"No!" Snape sounded vehement.

Neville took a breath. He'd been thinking about what Dumbledore had asked of him, at the end of their conversation. Now, watching Snape argue against his involvement, even as tired as he seemed to be, he had all the answers he needed. He looked at the man's shaking hand, clenched into fist at his side. He'd seen Snape shake like that before, in the Infirmary, after the event that had turned his world upside down. He took a step forward. "I want to help."

Silence fell. He saw Snape stiffen, his hand clenching again, before it slowly released. Snape turned to face him, his expression unfathomable. "Do not be a fool, Longbottom, and attempt to involve yourself in things you do not understand."

Neville held his gaze. "Reckon I do understand, a bit. You're supposed to be stopping the rebellion in Hogwarts, right? And he said you were helping Harry somehow. I dunno what you're helping him with, but the other part...I think I'm already involved. Just like I think you already know that, or you wouldn't have made sure I had my detentions assigned to you." he held the black eyes.

"You...have no idea what you are speaking of." The words were calm, but there was too much tension in Snape's frame for him to entirely believe them.

"I do." Neville swallowed. "You know Dumbledore's Army was formed in fifth year. And you were there when Umbridge busted in on us, so I reckon you've got a pretty good idea where to start, at least. But the Carrows don't seem to know anything." He let the unspoken words hang between them. "I know you can make sure I don't tell anyone, so your secret's safe. But I want to help. Think I owe you that much, for what you've been doing for us, so far."

Snape's jaw clenched. "And what, precisely, do you think I have been doing?"

"Been keeping the Carrows off our backs. They're right nasty, but I'll bet they could be worse." he saw something flicker through Snape's eyes, and took it as confirmation. "Saved my life, and even got me where they couldn't have a go at me so much anymore. Bet I'm not the only student you've kept an eye out for, either."

"You are the most inept, with the greatest tendency to find yourself at the wrong end of a wand." Snape's voice was sharp, but not as biting as it could have been.

Neville swallowed. "McGonagall doesn't think you care about reining the Carrows in, but you have been, haven't you?" Snape didn't acknowledge the statement, and after a moment, Neville spoke again. "And that incident, my first night of detention...you got in trouble didn't you? With...with You-Know-Who. That's why you came back looking like that." He bit his lip, and the last words came out in a whisper. "When the DA does things...you're getting punished for it. They're torturing you, for not being able to stop us."

Snape turned away from him, staring at another wall. After a moment, there was a soft snort. "Do not delude yourself, Mr. Longbottom. Regardless of the frustration, the antics of a few rebellious teenagers are hardly the only things to cause the Dark Lord undue annoyance."

Neville almost believed him, but he'd heard that short pause. "But you're responsible for us." He looked at the man's hand, braced on the chair. "It happened again, tonight, didn't it? After what happened yesterday..." He didn't recall Snape shaking that Friday, but he knew a few things that could cause it. "Sir...someone used the Cruciatus on you, didn't they?" Snape's eyes snapped back to him, and he held the man's gaze, seeing the confirmation in that startled response. "Reckon we've all seen the symptoms well enough to know, and me more than most." He felt one corner of his mouth curl up in a bitter smile.

Snape regarded him for a moment, and something settled in the black eyes, a kind of weariness and wariness that Neville wasn't sure he understood. "Even if this...theory of yours were true, exactly what do you propose to do about it?" He moved forward, so they were eye to eye, the black gaze sharp and challenging. "Will you tell your friends, your fellow rebels, to cease their activity? Turn them over to myself or the Carrows, to be dealt with?"

Neville felt the blood leave his face. "I can't do that, sir."

"Indeed. How then, do you propose to 'help' me?" Snape's eyes were dark, challenging.

"Reckon I didn't do so bad Friday. And I know a little bit of what to do for what you've got now." Neville took a breath. "You really ought to sit down, sir." he hesitated a moment, then slipped into a chair in front of the desk.

Snape regarded him a long moment, then flicked his hand, and the Headmaster's chair moved outward. He regarded for a long moment, and Neville saw the flicker of distaste on his face. Then he settled into it. "Again, Mr. Longbottom, _if_ I were to admit that your...theories were actually correct, then what exactly, do you think _you_ could do about the situation?"

"You're already giving me detention. I can be here to help you out, after...after meetings, or with other stuff you need. I'm sure you can make it look like I'm being punished for something." He grimaced, rubbing a shoulder that was still sore from his work on the stairs. "And..." he took a deep breath. "You already knew, before tonight, that I'm part of them. The DA." he took another breath, not entirely sure why he was doing this. "You know who we are."

"Dumbledore's Army." There was no inflection in Snape's voice. "I have my suspicions. Particularly about your...rather active role in the group. In light of your frequent attempts to annoy and defy the Carrows..." He trailed off, but Neville understood. Snape knew he was one of the DA leaders, or at least guessed it.

Neville nodded. "I might be able to get them to lay off a bit, by telling them that you're taking your mood out on me." A smirk touched his mouth and, to his surprise, Snape's. "Not like it hasn't happened before." he shrugged. "They won't stop completely, but..."

"I would hardly expect them to." There was a faint sneer, colored by something else, in Snape's voice. "Like you, your classmates show an infinite lack of interest in their own well-being, and a marked carelessness for the well-being of those around them. I would hardly expect them to cease their foolishness over the fate of one student, however well supported."

Neville stiffened. "We take care of our own, as best we can, sir."

"And your Professors do their best to shield you from the Carrows. I am well aware of this." Snape exhaled sharply, then rose and stalked away from his chair. "You have placed yourself in a very dangerous position. And you truly think you wish to become further involved?"

Neville nodded. "I do sir. I can help you."

"It's more likely to be the other way around." Snape snorted. "I suppose you are aware, there can be no appearance of collusion, for both our sakes?"

Neville bit his lip. "You mean, I've got to hate you. I understand that sir. I can't ask them to lay off you, and you can't do too much to keep me out of trouble."

"Indeed. And you truly wish to continue this farce?" Snape's black eyes came up to meet his, challenge in them.

"Yes sir. I won't let you Obliviate me, and...now that I know about you...I can't just act like I don't. Reckon it'll be a bit difficult, but you can keep me from telling the others, so...I think I can manage, sir."

Snape held his gaze. "If we are to enter into this...partnership..." There was something that was almost a sneer in the word, except for the unease that also sounded into it. "You must be willing to trust my judgment. To do as I require, without your usual foolish and unnecessary arguing. No matter how distasteful you may find it."

Neville swallowed. That was hard. The man had been his nightmare for six years. And yet...Snape might have been a terror, but Neville had been a bit hopeless at Potions. And it was a dangerous subject. Much as he hated the scorn and viciousness he'd been subjected to, there had been at least a sort of reason behind it. He considered. "Two requests, sir."

"Indeed?" Snape raised an eyebrow.

"Can I ask questions, sir? I understand you might tell me to do something, but I think I've a right to ask why, at least. And...I want to know...if I tell you something, will you listen to me?"

Snape's eyebrow rose a fraction higher, and Neville thought he saw something that might have almost been approval in his expression. "Well. Finally managing to use that mind of yours after all. I was under the impression there was nothing there but plant clippings and idiotic notions of heroism." Then his face became impassive once more. "And if I tell you your questions must wait?"

Neville took a breath. "Then I'll ask for an explanation later on, sir." He met the black eyes. "And...you'll listen to me?"

"If I can. I make no promises, particularly those I cannot be assured of keeping." Snape sat stiffly back in the chair, his eyes daring him to protest. "I may, for reasons of my own, appear to disregard you. And in some cases, I cannot act."

Oddly enough, the lack of promise was almost reassuring. Snape was taking him seriously. He wasn't sure he would have trusted it if Snape had promised to hear him out on everything, not with what he knew. And it was at least a reassurance that he would make an effort. It was certainly the best he was going to get. "Reckon that's fair, sir."

Snape watched him a long moment. "Come here."

Neville rose and moved over to the desk. Snape regarded him a moment, then held out one hand in silent demand. Neville hesitated, then extended his hand across the desk. He tried not to gasp as the thin fingers seized his wrist. Then Snape chanted a familiar sounding spell, and a pressure he recognized settled inside his head, as if another box had been stuffed in there, or the old one expanded to contain the new information.

Snape released him. "It appears, Mr. Longbottom, that we have at least a temporary... understanding."

Neville nodded. "Yes sir."

Snape studied him a moment, then rose. Neville saw his hands were still shaking, then the Headmaster turned his back. "You will report here, after class, to finish your current assignment. Now...leave."

Neville started to speak, then he saw the way Snape was clenching his hand on the chair, the stiffness of his shoulders under the black robes. The man looked ready to collapse. He swallowed hard in understanding. Snape didn't want him here, not if he was about to fall over. It would be far too embarrassing for both of them. He rose from his own seat, and, remembering the roles they were both supposed to be playing, put as much sullenness as he could manage into his tone. "Sir." Then he turned and left.

_**Author's Note: **And so an unlikely partnership begins...these two are going to have trouble keeping their heads down.  
_


	6. Chapter 6: Proof of Sincerity

**Chapter Six: The Proof of Sincerity**

Neville arrived for his Friday detention nursing a slashed arm, and a cut on his left cheek, as well as bruises. He grimaced as Alecto led him up to the Headmaster's Office. It was his own fault, really. He'd mouthed off again. But Alecto had been badmouthing Hermione, as an example of Mudblood filth, and he'd had to speak up. Not the wisest thing, but...he wasn't going to let them say such things. It had been bad enough when it was Malfoy.

Alecto delivered him to the door with barely suppressed glee. "Got your prisoner for you, Headmaster!" She snickered. "He's been a nasty brat. Smarted off to me in class today."

Snape raised one eyebrow. "Indeed? In that case...I'm sure he'll have plenty of time to regret it, while serving detention with me."

Alecto smirked. "Right then. Where do you plan to start, huh? If it was me, I'd string him up, good and proper, down in the dungeons, then give him a good stiff dose of discipline." Her eyes gleamed coldly. "I can do that for you, if you like, Headmaster. Got to be irritating, watching this brat night after night." She shoved Neville forward disdainfully.

"Quite." Snape's face was calm and relaxed as he rose. "However, I assure you, I am quite capable of enforcing my own brand of...punishment, with Mr. Longbottom. Nor do I require your assistance, even in such a matter as this. And I believe you do have other duties to be seen to." He gestured lazily. "You are dismissed."

Alecto scowled. "Boy's got no respect for us, Headmaster Snape. I'm in charge of discipline, appointed by the Dark Lord. You ought to let me put the little brat in his place, or make an example of him."

Snape's cold sneer took on a dangerous edge. "You seem to forget. The Dark Lord has placed you in charge of discipline, but _I_ am the Headmaster of Hogwarts, until our Lord sees fit to change that fact. As such, I hold the right to make whatever commands I see fit, so long as they do not countermand his orders. As your methods of disciplining Longbottom have had no effect, I see no point in continuing such a useless endeavor." His tone had shifted from cold to insulting, implying incompetence, and Alecto flushed red. "As for making an example of the boy..." His eyes drifted to Neville, cold and mocking. "The brat has been the bane of my class for six years already. However, much as I support your enthusiasm for removing him, the Dark Lord has given orders otherwise. And until our Lord issues different orders,_you_will have him in your class, and _I_ shall have the rather dubious pleasure of attempting to beat the foolishness out of him." One dark eyebrow rose. "You are, of course, free to speak to the Dark Lord himself, and tell him you disagree with his orders."

Alecto paled nearly as fast as she'd flushed earlier. "No call for that, Snape."

"Headmaster." The correction was delivered coolly. Then Snape turned away. "If that will be all, Alecto, I believe you have corridors to patrol. And Mr. Longbottom and I have a detention to start." There was an edge of maliciousness to his voice that made Neville swallow hard. Even with the discussion they'd had last night...Snape sounded dangerous.

Alecto saw his expression, and a sneer replaced a bit of the scowl on her face. "Well, if you're sure, Headmaster, then I'll get to it. Be sure to make the brat scream good and loud." With that, she turned and left.

Snape made no move as the door shut behind her. Neville remained where he was, wondering what the hell Snape was going to do. He knew they'd made a deal. He knew that part of it was to act as if nothing had changed between them. But still...a part of his brain was screaming, twisting his stomach into knots, wondering what Snape was going to do. Part of his mind was screaming that it had been a trick, so Snape could prevent him from revealing his weakness, so Snape could ferret information from him.

Black eyes regarded him for a moment, then Snape turned away and flicked a wand at the desk. "I believe you have lines to finish, Mr. Longbottom. After which, I seem to recall you have some cleaning and sorting to do, down in the first year's labs. It appears that they've made quite a mess down there." There was a smirk on his face, and in his voice.

Neville bit his lip on a scowl and moved forward to the desk. His arm smarted, as did his face, and the bleeding hadn't stopped entirely. But he didn't dare say anything. He dabbed at the blood with one sleeve.

Snape snorted. "Pathetic. I would have thought you'd have been brought up well enough to at least use a handkerchief. Unless of course, you are so absentminded and foolish as to have forgotten one entirely, which I find highly likely, considering that it is you."

Neville bit his lip to stop his first response. He was trying to think of what to say, when Snape turned from the Headmaster's desk and dropped a square of cloth, a small bowl of water, and a jar of salve onto the surface in front of him. "Use that. I've no wish to try and decipher your already abysmal penmanship from amidst blood splatters. Nor do I wish to listen to you whine all night."

Neville blinked. Then he picked up the cloth, dipped it in the water, and rubbed it over his arm and face. The cool liquid felt wonderful. He dabbed at both cuts until the cloth stopped coming away pink, then picked up the salve, stuck a cautious finger into it, and rubbed it into the slash on his forearm.

The blood welling in the gash slowed almost immediately. A soothing, cooling feeling spread through his arm, easing the burning sting, followed by a comforting warmth. His arm stopped throbbing at once. He spread a little more over the cut on his face, with the same results. The lack of pain was almost enough to make him sigh with relief.

Snape stepped forward again, and before he could move away, slapped a small square of a bandage onto the cut on his face. Then the man shoved his sleeve roughly upward, wound a bandage around his arm, then tied it off.

Neville blinked. "Professor..."

"Headmaster, unless you wish to admit you are too stupid to even remember the change in my status, obvious though it is. However, as I have no intention of releasing your from your punishment of cleaning the labs this evening, precautions are required to insure that you do not wind up in the Hospital Wing, suffering from accidental exposure to something. Normally, I would not bother, however, given your track record for foolishness, clumsiness, and overall idiocy, there is no point in taking chances. I have no desire to waste precious time explaining matters to either Madam Pomfrey, or your Head of House." Snape stepped away. "The bandage will be removed when you finish your work for the night. Speaking of which, I suggest you start." His fingers flicked toward the stack of parchment.

Neville flushed under the insults, but turned back to the desk. For a minute, all he could feel was anger at the way Snape was treating him, then his eye fell on the white bandage, and the fury cooled.

Snape had tended his wounds. And whatever it was he'd used on the cuts, it was very effective. He could still feel the soothing effects. And, as his head cooled, he remembered that they'd agreed to be enemies. His eyes glanced up, taking in the portraits on the walls. He doubted any of them were spies on the side of the dark, but there was no guarantee. Nor was there a guarantee that someone wouldn't come barging into the office. It was still early enough for teachers or students to report in. He thought Snape might be acting a little paranoid, but then, the man had more experience at subterfuge than he did. He took a deep breath, then bent his head and got to work.

The lines took him over three hours to write. He stopped briefly, for dinner, then got right back to it. Snape alternated between sitting at the desk and prowling around the room, just like he did in potions class. Twice he managed to startle Neville into smudging the paper, forcing him to redo part of the work. By the time he was done writing, his fingers and hands were aching and felt rubbed raw, and his shoulders and back had cramped from sitting hunched over the desk.

Snape snatched the sheets of paper and studied them. "Adequate, I suppose. Certainly indicative that repetition can drill _something_ into even the thickest skulls, though I suppose it's too much to hope you learned the _intended_ lesson from this."

Neville swallowed back his question about why Snape was being such a git, and his desire to snap at the man, settling for a sullen attitude. "Can I leave then, _sir_?"

Snape looked at the clock, offhandedly. "There are still...two hours, before curfew. Quite an adequate amount of time for you to at least start your next task." He gestured to the door. "Come."

Neville grimaced and followed the man, wincing as his stiff muscles protested the movements of navigating the stairs. However, by the time they descended the final flight to the Entry Hall and turned toward the dungeons, the stiff muscles had loosened up, and he felt almost normal again, aside from the stiffness of his hands.

Snape led him to a lab he recognized from his first year at Hogwarts, and pushed open the door. "Inside."

Neville grimaced. He wasn't that good at Potions and knew it, but even he could tell something had gone wrong. The smell alone was awful.

Snape caught the expression on his face and sneered. "An exploding cauldron. I expect you are highly familiar with the phenomenon, seeing as you hold the record for the number exploded in my class." He put an impatient hand on Neville's back and shoved, sending him stumbling into the room. "In addition, I believe that several other students were too preoccupied with watching their class-mate's mishap to pay proper attention to their own brews. While, normally, this would be a task for the students, I've informed Professor Slughorn that you have volunteered to clean up _all_ such accidents, as part of your detention." He shut the door and locked it, then gestured, and the usual cleaning supplies appeared. "I assume, by now, that even you have an idea of what to do."

Neville bit his lip and picked up the cleaning supplies. Snape watched a moment, then turned and settled himself at the teacher's desk, folding his arms across his chest as he did so. Neville shifted the cleaning supplies to one side, and looked around the room.

It wasn't actually nearly as bad as he'd expected. There was gunk on three of the tables, and a wide section of floor, but it hadn't splattered the ceiling this time. He spotted shards of one cauldron, and five more intact ones, all covered in mess. He rolled up his sleeves, then went to the sink and began running the hot water and Magical Mess Remover. After it filled, he turned back to the cauldrons.

All of them were disgusting. Two were so awful it made him gag. He had no idea what potion the students had been assigned to make, but after encountering the results of their mistakes, he hoped he never had to take the actual brew. He dumped the two worst cauldrons into the sink and was reaching for a scrub brush when Snape spoke. "Move."

He stepped sideways, turning in surprise, then jumped out of the way as Snape snapped a spell. Neville blinked as a jet of light hit the cauldrons, and they began washing themselves. "Sir?"

"You will scrub the last one yourself." Snape gestured again, and the debris from the blown cauldron collected itself. "You will also clean the floor and the tables. However, prior to that..." He gestured curtly, and a stool slid out. "Sit."

Neville settled gingerly onto the stool. Despite Snape's change in attitude, and their bargain, he still half expected the man to do something horrible to him. Snape watched him, then rose from his own seat and paced around the desk, as if he were agitated, or thinking of something. Then he stopped and leaned, very deliberately, against the desk, bracing himself on both hands. "Why, Mr. Longbottom, did you deliberately antagonize the Carrows, this afternoon?"

Neville blinked. Of all the questions he'd expected, that wasn't one of them. "They were going on about Mudbloods, and half-breeds again. And then Professor Carrow got to insulting Hermione. Called her a load of nasty names, said she was a stupid twit, and other rubbish like that."

Snape's hands clenched on the desk. He looked as if he were trying to prevent himself from striking something. Neville felt his shoulders tighten in apprehension. Then Snape exhaled sharply. "Anyone who has read Miss Granger's records knows precisely what she is capable of. Furthermore, as she is not here, and your classmates seem unlikely to pay any more attention to the Carrows than you do, I doubt her reputation shall be much affected. Whatever insults the Carrows can contrive." he straightened suddenly, whirling to face Neville, the black eyes glittering with anger. "You, on the other hand..."

Neville stiffened again, this time with indignation. "Hermione's my friend. I'm not going to let someone insult her, even if I am going to get in trouble for it." One of his hands clenched into a fist. "I know it could get me into a load of trouble, but it's the principle of it, you know. I reckon we've got to stand up for ourselves, and for each other, unless we want them to win. And I..."

"Quiet." The low intensity of Snape's voice cut him off, and cooled his indignation. The man stood still for a long moment, then turned away from him. "Do you not understand, you foolish boy...do you not realize what would have happened, had you not already been serving detention with me?" Under the sneer, there was tension in his voice, mirrored in the lines of his shoulders underneath the black robes.

Neville swallowed. "Reckon the Carrows would have punished me then."

"Indeed. And I would have been unable to prevent it. You would have been lucky to avoid permanent damage. Even if they had remembered my orders and referred you to me after a relatively light punishment." Snape's voice was a low snarl. "Idiot boy. Have you no concept of when to choose your battles?"

Neville grimaced, feeling both anger and embarrassment. "What do you reckon I ought to do, just sit back when they insult my friends? Or maybe I ought to let them get on with all that rubbish, putting Seamus down for being a half-blood, and all that other rot. Bet you'd think it was perfectly all right." He flinched at the last statement, but his anger had got the better of him, and there was no way to take it back.

"Mind your tongue." Snape spun around, his face pale in the light. He looked angrier than Neville had expected. Then the Headmaster stopped and threw his head back, inhaling deeply. "That...is precisely what I mean about choosing your battles. Had I...been any other, particularly the Carrows, you would have found yourself facing at least the Cruciatus. If you were fortunate."

Neville swallowed back another angry response. "Yes sir."

Snape studied him a moment. "Better." The black eyes held his a long moment, then Snape turned away. "How many are there, in your little group of troublemakers?"

Neville blinked, startled by the change in topic. "I...what?"

"How many?" There was a bite of impatience to Snape's voice.

"Dunno. We don't keep count, and we don't keep each other's names, because we might get caught like we were two years ago."

"A rough estimate then." Curiously, there was no further anger or impatience in Snape's voice.

"Well, I guess...fifty, seventy-five maybe. At least, the active ones. I haven't any clue how many people there are who support us, but won't come forward." Neville shrugged.

"Since that would no doubt include well over half the school, you need not concern yourself with that." Snape flicked a hand. "Bruises and cuts are your usual injuries, and exposure to the Cruciatus Curse?"

Neville swallowed hard. "Yes, sir."

Snape must have heard the slight hesitation in his voice, because he turned. "What else, Mr. Longbottom?"

Neville took a deep breath. "Well, they're rather fond of chaining us in the dungeon. Only, the chains aren't really long enough, you know. They're really bad with the first years, sir." He could hardly believe he was confessing the whole thing to Snape, of all people.

Snape nodded. Neville even saw one hand shift, as if the man had made to rub the opposite wrist, before the gesture stilled. "Very well." He waved his wand, and the cauldrons stopped scrubbing themselves. "You will complete your detention. I have work to do." Without another word, he turned and vanished through the office door in the back, and Neville heard the locks click closed. He stared at the door for a moment, wondering what was going on, then sighed and went to finish cleaning out the cauldrons.

He'd just finished cleaning the floor and mopping it, when Snape strode back into the room. The Headmaster was carrying a moderately sized box. He set it down on the table. "Dare I hope you've finished, or has your usual incompetence got the better of you?"

Neville felt his face heat, and his temper flare. Then he saw the subtle flick of Snape's wand. _A __spell?_ He forced himself to speak normally. "I've finished, sir."

Snape glanced at the floor, and the cauldrons sitting on the counter. "Very well. I assume you know how to cast, and counter, a simple Shrinking Charm?"

Neville frowned. "Well, the Expansion Charm, yeah. We learned that ages back, in Flitwick's class."

"That will do. Pay attention." Snape tapped the box, and it expanded. "This box contains pain-killers, balm and other potions to counteract your...peculiar affinities for trouble. There is enough here to cover the situation, as you described it to me, for the time being. If you have sense enough to inform me when you are running low, I shall see that another batch becomes...available."

Neville nodded and stepped up to the desk, glancing into the box. There were several potions inside, including bottles of Blood Replenisher, and what looked like Skele-Gro. He frowned. "Sir...someone's going to miss this, aren't they?"

"I already am, Mr. Longbottom. As of ten minutes ago, a ward was tripped by an unfamiliar wand, in my store-room. I will escort you up to my office, to be guarded by the portraits, while I attempt to uncover the thief. When I return, you will go straight to Gryffindor Tower, do you understand?"

Neville nodded. Snape shrunk the crate again and handed it to him, then grabbed his arm and propelled him out of the room, looking every inch the furious and irate Headmaster. His grip on Neville's arm was bruising. Neville fought the urge to protest, knowing it would do no good. Instead, he set his own face into stoic passivity.

Alecto and Amycus met them at the gargoyle door to the Headmaster's office. Snape stopped. "Any sign of them?"

Amycus shook his head. "Not a one. Haven't seen a brat out of House yet. Except for this one. Got the Slytherins and all looking, but no luck." His eyes lit on Neville. "Or did you catch this little rat at it Headmaster?"

"Do not be a fool. I'm scarcely stupid enough to leave a student in the middle of detention. Particularly one as thoroughly useless and troublesome as Longbottom." He glared at the gargoyle. "Cockroach." The gargoyle moved. "I'm taking the boy up to confine him in my office. Remain here, until I return."

Alecto snickered. "Dungeon would be better. String the brat up, right and proper." She snickered again. "I'll do it for you, if you're too busy, Headmaster."

Snape sneered. "The thief was only recently in the dungeons, and, since you've not located him or her, may still be there. I've no wish for the two to encounter each other, and possibly erase evidence of their misdeeds. I've no doubt Longbottom, even tied up, would find some way to screw up the situation." He dragged Neville up the stairs, then dropped him, firmly but not roughly, to the ground. "Incarcerous." Ropes bound Neville. Snape watched him a moment, then whirled and left the room.

Neville lay where Snape had dropped him, breathing rapidly. He'd been afraid the Carrows were going to get him, for a moment there. Slowly, he relaxed and took stock of the situation.

He was bound, but not too tightly. The shrunken box of potions was still in his pocket, and undamaged. He was a bit uncomfortable, but Snape had dropped him onto a carpet, so it wasn't as bad as it might have been. His elbow was aching from where Snape had held him, but even that was pretty minor. After a careful wiggle to make sure he wasn't bruised or hurt, he relaxed and allowed himself to think of what had just happened.

Snape had given him potions, to help the DA. And with his detention, and Snape's public incarceration of him, he pretty much had solid alibi. He wouldn't be in the Gryffindor room when they did the search, so by the time he got the potions back, there'd be no one looking for him, or them. As long as no one said anything and the teachers, particularly the Carrows, never caught them with a potion, it was completely safe. He had to marvel at the genius of the whole thing.

Another thought occurred to him. With the high number of injuries the Carrows inflicted, there was no reason they couldn't say they'd received the potions from Madam Pomfrey, if someone got caught with one. Most teachers wouldn't bother asking, or investigating beyond that. It was a bit of a risk, if the Carrows or Filch or someone _did_ decide to ask the Nurse, but she was smart, and not too fond of the Carrows and their enforcement squad. If they were lucky, she'd lie and back them up.

He frowned. Snape was doing a lot for him. He'd been wary of the man, and his agreement to help, but his actions...Snape had lectured him, but for his own good. He'd healed him, and now he was helping him smuggle healing potions to the DA. As much as part of him wanted to deny it, he was beginning to believe Snape was sincere about wanting to help them. Certainly, all of his actions so far indicated it was true. But in that case...he owed the man a gesture of his own. He laid his head back against the carpet, trying to think of something he could do, something to indicate his own trust in the man. He didn't want to say or do too much, not yet, but there had to be something.

He had no idea how much time passed, but finally, the door to the office clicked, and Snape strode in, his expression dark with anger. He shut the door behind him, studied Neville sourly for a moment, then clicked his fingers, and the ropes fell away. "Get up."

Neville rose carefully to his feet. He was a little stiff from lying on the ground, and he didn't want to break the box he had. "You done, sir?"

"We are. The culprit has not been found. However, that does not mean anything. The search will be continued, more discretely." Snape strode into the room, face drawn with irritation and an exhaustion that Neville suspected he'd have never noticed, or been allowed to see, a few weeks prior. "You would do well to remember that you and your classmates have already gathered...unfriendly attention."

"I reckon we all know that. You mean that they'll suspect us, even if they haven't found any proof yet." Neville stretched, working a shoulder that was still stiff from cleaning. "If you're done with me tonight, reckon I'll go ask Madam Pomfrey for a Muscle Relaxer, if that's all right with you, sir."

"If you must." Snape scowled, but Neville caught the gleam of understanding in the black eyes, and had a feeling Snape knew the cover story he'd concocted, about the potions. "You may see her in the morning."

Neville blinked. "Sir..."

"In the morning, Longbottom. It is now past curfew, and you would do well to return straight to your dorms. Unless you wish certain parties to become...suspicious, despite the circumstances."

Neville swallowed, seeing the logic. He hadn't even thought of that. Then another thought occurred to him. "Sir, you said...it was an unknown wand, or whatever. How could you tell?"

"I was Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher for a year. Most professors teaching applied magic learn the signatures of their students, to identify any misuse of spell-casting. I have more reason than most to keep an eye on such things. However, you would do well to remember that fact, regardless."

Neville nodded. "But, if the other professors know that...then an unknown wand..."

"I doubt most of them will remember it, and I am highly certain it is a fact the Carrows never bothered to learn. However..." Snape paused. "Another thing you would do well to remember, Mr. Longbottom. Both defeated wands and inherited wands can change masters. And most...experienced duelers, possess more than one."

Neville nodded. He had a feeling he knew what Snape was saying. The professor had a spare wand in hand. That was interesting. So was the warning and the advice in his words. _Right, so if we can, we should try to acquire spare wands. Doubt there'll be much opportunity, but it's worth a shot. And we shouldn't assume, if we Disarm someone, or don't see a wand, that they don't have one. Don't know if the Discipline Squad knows about that, but I reckon we'd better watch ourselves._ "Yes sir."

He thought for a moment, thinking over the evening events, remembering what he'd been thinking of before Snape had returned. He was interrupted by Snape's words. "If there is nothing else, I believe you have detention in the morning. I recommend you get what rest you can." There was a sneer in the words, but he was learning to see past it.

"Right. Only, Professor...there's one more thing..." He reached into his pocket, and grasped the charmed galleon he had with him. He already knew there were spares, and Ginny had at least two.

"Make it fast." Snape leaned against the desk.

"Sir...if I need to contact you...or if something happens...well, you said we can't appear to be allies, right? Makes it a bit more difficult."

"I shall manage the problem, Mr. Longbottom." There was no doubt about it, Snape was definitely beginning to look tired. Neville wondered if he was still suffering the effects of the Cruciatus.

"I might have something for you." He withdrew the Galleon, then moved forward and set it on the desk.

Snape glanced at it, and a small sneer curled his lip. "While I am quite aware that the Longbottom family is far better off than I, the salary of Headmaster is more than sufficient to insure that I do not need hand-outs from students. Nor do I accept bribes."

"I know, sir. But this one's a bit special." He picked it up again, and concentrated on the codes the DA had practiced. 'Safe' and 'okay' with a question, plus his initials. The coin blazed warm in his hand as he sent it on. Snape's eyes widened just the slightest bit, interest and concentration banishing the air of weariness.

Moments later, the coin warmed again, and the symbol for 'all clear' appeared, this time with Luna's initials. Then it flashed, the same signal appearing with Ginny's marks.

"Quite...interesting." Snape reached out and took the coin from him studying it. "An ongoing enchantment, quite complex."

"Hermione made them, back in fifth year. We modified them before school started." Some of it had been done before the end of sixth year, some of it over the summer.

"And this is the method of communication used by your...friends?" Snape's voice was quiet.

"Yes sir. It's how we get word around. Not sure quite how Hermione did it, but you can send a general message, or just to one person, long as you can visualize them. Usually, we send them anonymously. Reckon they've got initials this time so that I'd know everyone was all right." he swallowed, wondering if Snape could guess who'd sent him the information.

"Miss Lovegood and Miss Weasley." Snape might have read his mind, by the soft-spoken confirmation. "However...I already have my eye on both of them." His fingers ran along the edge of the Galleon. Seconds later, the surface shimmered, and the normal image of a Galleon appeared. "Camouflage. Quite wise of Miss Granger."

"Yeah. They change after about a minute, I think."

Snape nodded. "And the symbols?"

"It's kind of our code. There's a whole load of them." He half expected Snape to point to the desk and order him to write them down, but the man merely nodded, then handed it back to him. "Sir...you can keep it if you like. I thought...it might help."

"Do not be a fool, Longbottom. You have just signaled your friends, and no doubt the entire Castle is aware of your likely whereabouts. To present me with this now would only create suspicion, if not unneeded concern. The last thing I need is intrepid Gryffindors breaking into my tower looking for money." A smirk curved one corner of the thin mouth. "However, considering that you seem to have difficulty learning your lessons, perhaps I should charge you recompense for the cauldrons you damaged last week."

Neville blinked. "Sir?"

"You have pocket money, from home, I assume?"

"Err...yeah. A bit." Neville blinked.

"Then I am charging you to pay at least partial recompense for the cauldrons destroyed in our earlier altercation. You will bring me the payment tomorrow." Snape smirked. "Since I cannot charge you full price, due to the number of cauldrons exploded here by accident every year, I am only charging you, say, a Galleon or two."

Neville nodded. "Yes sir." he shifted, feeling suddenly tired. He hadn't thought all the double talk and planning could be so exhausting. He saw a similar weariness deepening the lines of Snape's face, in spite of the sneer. "Can I go now, sir?"

"You may. Return tomorrow morning, 8am." Snape gestured curtly, and the door swung open. Neville matched the sneer on the professor's face with a sullen scowl of his own, and left.

_**Author's Note: **So, it's a bit rocky, but the relationship is at least a bit stable...however, I guarantee there's going to be several more rocky moments between them..._


	7. Chapter 7: Foolish Maneuver

**Chapter Seven: Foolish Maneuver**

Everyone was waiting when Neville arrived back in the Gryffindor common room. He answered their questions, assuring them that he'd come to no more harm in Snape's clutches, then pulled the box of potions from his pocket and unshrunk it. "Here. We'd better get these sorted and hidden right fast, before anyone comes."

Lee Jordan's eyes were wide, and Seamus was staring. Finally, the young Irish wizard got his voice back. "Bloody hell. No wonder Snape looked so ruddy mad. How'd you do it mate?" There was admiration, and a touch of envy in his voice.

Neville shrugged. "He forgot to take my wand this evening. I nicked them while he was making me clean out the dungeons, then tripped the alarm to distract him while I sorted everything out." The lie felt flimsy, unreasonable even to him, but no one called him on it. He hoped they would put the restless tension he felt down to nerves.

Lee Jordan grinned. "Incredible! That was brilliant, Neville."

Neville shrugged again. "Wasn't that much really, but we'd better get them all sorted and hidden away before Snape, or the Carrows and their Discipline Squad, do another check." Neville gestured. "I reckon everyone should take one or two. We'll hide the rest, maybe in one of those passages Harry told us about." Before he'd gone, Harry had given them all a list of the hidden passages on the school grounds, and how to get into and out of them They were mostly blocked off and guarded, but with a suitable diversion, hiding something there wasn't impossible. "Maybe behind the one-eyed witch, or that destroyed passage behind the mirror."

"We could put them in the Room of Requirement." Ginny spoke up softly.

Neville nodded. "That would be brilliant too." He studied the potions assembled in the box, then pulled out a muscle relaxer and a potion to ease pain. "Listen, I'm going to see Madam Pomfrey tomorrow. If you get caught with a potion on you, tell them she gave it to you. I'll ask her to back us up."

Ginny frowned. "Are you going to tell her that you stole the potions? Is that really wise?"

Neville shrugged. "Dunno. But I don't reckon she'll turn me over to the Carrows. She hates them as much as we do. And if she goes along with it, then we've got a story to cover our tracks."

Seamus grinned. "That's wicked good thinking, mate." He looked into the box, then pulled out three vials and tucked them into his pockets. At his movement, everyone else came forward and selected two or three potions to hide with them.

Even after they'd all taken their share, the box was still half full. Neville swallowed, rather surprised by how thoroughly Snape had provided for them. Then he shook the thought away. "Ginny, think you and Seamus or Lee can get the rest of these hidden away? I'd do it myself, but I've an early detention tomorrow with Snape."

Lee scowled. "Bloody nasty git, that one, giving you detention for two whole months. I think he just likes to pick on you."

Neville shrugged. He couldn't tell them the truth. On the other hand...an idea formed in his mind. "Reckon so, now that Harry's not here. He even told me today that I've got to pay partial damages for a couple exploding cauldrons. Said he was charging me three whole Galleons."

"Oi! That's unfair!" Seamus looked outraged. "That's not your fault. You aren't even in Potions any more."

Ginny was frowning as well. "He probably blew them up himself, or messed with someone elses potion to make them explode."

"Yeah." It wasn't hard to find a scowl. After all, Snape _had_ been the one to blow up the cauldrons. "But I reckon if I don't pay up, he'll turn my pockets out himself. He might do it anyway, the git." He frowned. "Speaking of galleons...Ginny, do you think you could give me one of the spares? I'd like to have it, just in case Snape confiscates my other one or something. I'll leave it here unless I need it."

Ginny bounced to her feet, then darted up the stairs to the girls dormitory, to return a few seconds later with one of the charmed coins. "I'll get another from Luna. But be careful." She met his eyes. "You do know how to cancel the charm on the coin, if you get caught, right?"

Neville nodded. "Hermione showed me." Unlike the complex mix of spells that had been placed on the coin, the canceling spell was a simple variation on 'Finite Incantantem'. They'd all practiced it until they could do it wordlessly and wandlessly, if necessary.

Neville caught himself yawning as the tension of the evening drained out of him. A glance at the clock told him it was nearly midnight. "Reckon I'd better turn in, seeing as I've early detention again." There were murmurs of agreement all around the room, and Seamus and Lee followed him up to the dorms. Neville shucked his robes, set his alarm for 6am, and toppled into bed.

He managed to make his way to the Infirmary before his detention the next morning. Madam Pomfrey gave him a sharp look when he told her what he really needed, and a sharper lecture on the foolishness of his actions. However, the Matron did agree to support their ruse. A few minutes later, McGonagall found him, and escorted him to his detention.

As soon as she'd left the office, Neville moved to the desk and dropped four Galleons, including the charmed one, onto the surface. "For the cauldrons...sir."

Snape took the coins with a bored look on his face. "Well. It seems, despite your insistence on wasting my time, and dawdling on your assignments, you are at least capable of making _monetary _amendments in a timely manner. Perhaps...I ought to simply charge you an appropriate financial recompense. Though I doubt there's enough gold in Gringotts to cover the amount of potion ingredients and cauldrons you've cost me." He sneered, and Neville flushed. Then Snape rose from his seat and pocketed the coins. "Now then, Longbottom, I believe you have work to do."

He spent the day cleaning the dungeons, and the main potions storeroom, helping Snape re-organize and stock his potions, and the ingredients for them. It was dull labor, but he saw where everything was, and recognized what Snape was doing, showing him where to find things in case of an emergency. When they finally finished, his back and shoulders were aching from the hours of bending over to put things away, climbing ladders for other things, and hauling things around the room. However, he wasn't too tired to catch the warding incantation Snape spoke, and make a note of it. He had no doubt Snape had spoken it aloud so he'd be able to research the counter-spell. Well, he thought he might get Luna to do it.

Another thought hit him. He reached into his pocket and gripped the charmed coin. It was harder forming words on the coin than symbols, but they all knew how. He formed the words of the incantation in his mind, and a question mark, then sent it to one specific Galleon.

He saw Snape hesitate, the black eyes turning to him. Then the Headmaster pulled the coins out of his pocket. "Thought you'd be funny, did you, Longbottom? Handing in a fake coin. Perhaps...you need another lesson, in respect?"

"No sir. It was an accident. I never meant to give you that. It must have gotten mixed up with my other change, sir." It wasn't hard to get the necessary tone of uncertainty, fear and sullenness into his voice. All he had to do was think of his friend's reactions that morning, to the thought of Snape having a coin, and his own thoughts about the Carrows ever getting hold of one.

"I see. Well, since I have it, I see no reason to return it. Perhaps in the future, you'll learn to be more careful with your toys, and your money." One eyebrow rose above the sneer.

Neville stiffened. "Sir...that's my property. You can't just..."

"I believe you'll find that I can. Now then, unless you'd like me to add to your detention, I suggest you rethink whatever you're about to say."

Neville flushed angrily. "Never mind...sir."

The eyebrow quirked just a fraction higher. "Hmm. Perhaps you're actually not a complete waste of my time, after all. Though I shan't hold out too much hope for another such miracle of self-restraint." Snape flicked his wand. "It appears, however, that we have plenty of time to get on to your next task. I do believe there are some more classrooms awaiting your touch, Mr. Longbottom."

Neville scowled, but fell in behind Snape. It wasn't until they'd gone halfway down the corridor that he felt his own pocket heat. He blinked at the Headmasters back, then slipped his hand into his pocket and withdrew the coin. The words of the warding spell blazed back at him. He fought a grin, and re-directed the message to Luna, then stuck the coin back in his pocket before Snape could see.

The rest of the weekend passed in more of the grinding, exhausting labor, including a trip into the Forbidden Forest for ingredients. Snape did the collecting, but Neville had to carry almost everything, and between the load and how careful he had to be with some of the plants and all, it was one of the hardest tasks Snape had set him yet. He felt like he'd never get the knots of strain out of his arms and fingers. A glance at the clock in Snape's office told him that there were still about four hours till curfew, plenty of time for Snape to set another task to him. He grimaced. He was tired, aching, they'd missed lunch and would probably skip dinner except for Snape's usual sandwich and water service, and he had a bit of a sunburn from being out all day, plus scratches and scrapes from plants and tripping over things in the forest.

Snape put everything away, and he concentrated on trying to ease the ache, waiting until the Headmaster turned back to him. "So, what am I to do now, _sir_?" The last word came out sharply and Snape raised a warning eyebrow.

"I have a great number of things you could do, such as preparing things for Professor Slughorn's classes, or perhaps a few more chambers that might need cleaning, as slow and incapable as you are." A sneer touched Snape's face. "However, as your professors have recently noted that your already abysmal grades have begun slipping into even further decline...and as I do not wish to develop the reputation as the Headmaster who allowed such a failure to graduate, you will return to your dormitory, and complete your assignments. In addition, since you seem incapable of managing proficient grades without supervision, I shall be insuring that the quality of your work is raised to an acceptable standard."

Neville felt himself flush hard, his hands balling into fists. He'd never been good at Potions, and he knew it, but he was excellent at Herbology, he'd been getting good at Defense, before it had turned into Dark Arts, and he was no slouch at either Charms or Transfiguration. Nor was he at all bad with Care of Magical Creatures. Not perfect, maybe, but not bad either. "You'll what, sir?" It was the only response he could make without exploding.

Snape's sneer deepened, one eyebrow going up. "I believe you understood me. And if you did not...then you will see on Monday precisely what I mean." He gestured, and the door of the room swung open. "Now, unless you wish me to remove points and start you on your next assignment in detention...get out."

Neville didn't trust himself to say anything. He just gave a quick jerk of his head, then turned and walked out of the room. He would have slammed the door, if he didn't know that Snape _would _take points, and likely add to his detentions. Even so, he was fuming as he strode back to his dorm.

He knew Snape had said they had to be visible enemies. He knew they had to hate each other, more or less. But still...why did the bastard have to say stuff like that? Sneering at him was one thing, and he understood. But at least when they weren't surrounded by people, he'd thought the man would loosen up more. Not be nice, of course. That would have been way too strange. But maybe cut back a little on the taunting. He wouldn't have minded so much if Snape had insulted his Potion's skills or some such, or implied that the Carrows thought he was a failure. He rather hoped he'd be considered a failure by those two. But implying that he was bad at everything...that was overboard.

He stalked into Gryffindor common room, still angry. Seamus looked up from where he was sitting at a table, working on something. "Hey Neville." He saw Neville's expression, and the smile of greeting dropped off his face. "Hell, you look mad enough to curse someone. Carrows get at you?"

"No. Just Snape, the rotten bastard." He managed a deep breath. "Hey, look, I'm tired, and I think I've a bit of a headache coming on. I'm going up to the common room to take a quick kip and knock it out. I'll join you later."

"Fair enough." Seamus grimaced. "I'm kind of surprised you don't have a headache every day, dealing with that greasy git. Though the way he rides you, I'd say you just hurt too much everywhere else to notice. I'll keep everyone out of your hair for a while, tell the others you aren't feeling well."

Neville nodded, then strode up to his dorm and threw himself onto the bed. He spent a few minutes simply lying there breathing, relaxing and letting his aching shoulders and arms settle. Then, when he was calm, he began to go over his conversation with Snape again. He still felt annoyed, but the man was one of the subtlest, paranoid and twisty people he'd ever met.

Snape had let him out in time to do his homework and get a decent nights sleep for a change. Sure, he'd been insulting, but that was Snape, and anyway, they'd been in a public place and he hadn't seen Snape ward the room. What he didn't understand was the comments about bringing him up to standard. Aside from Dark Arts and Muggle studies, he was hardly close to failing anything, even with all the pressure he was under. He turned the words over in his mind again. _He __said __he __was __going __to __raise __my __work __'to __an __acceptable __standard'. __But __it __is __already. __McGonnagall's __not __exactly __easy __on __us, __nor __is __Flitwick. __Unless __he __means __the __Dark __Arts, __but __it's __not __like __I __want __to __be __good __at __those. __And __what __did __he __mean, __he __was __going __to __see __to __it __personally? __Some __new __form __of __punishment? __It's __not __like __he __can __bloody __well __tutor __me __or __anything. __If __I __even __wanted __him __to __do __something __like __that._ He shuddered. Having Snape as his Defense teacher last year had been bad enough.

He wasn't going to be able to figure it out here, that was for certain. He sighed, took a few more deep breaths to clear his head and relax his shoulders, then sat up, collected his books, and went down to the common room. He had no idea if Snape was going to do anything like this again or not, and it was stupid not to take any chance he could to get ahead.

The evening passed fairly quietly. It wasn't a scheduled meeting for the DA, so they didn't have visitors, or any place to go. Neville got a fair amount of his reading done, and a decent start on a couple of essays he had to turn in. He was just considering turning in for the evening when Ginny came to sit beside him. "Can I talk with you a moment?"

Neville nodded and set his pen aside. "Sure. Homework or other?"

"Other." Ginny hesitated a moment, then spoke quietly. "It's...it's about your detentions with Snape, really."

Neville tensed. "What about them? Man's a rotten bastard, but I don't think there's any way to get out of them, and if I try, he'll only load me with more, or let the Carrows at me." His mouth twisted in a grimace.

"I know. And...well, I know it's risky but..." Ginny paused. "The other night, when you took those potions...you said he took you to the Headmaster's office and tied you up and left you there, right?" Neville nodded. "And you sometimes serve detention there too, don't you?"

"Not bloody often. It's usually down in the dungeons, or anywhere in the castle, really." Neville shifted a sore shoulder again. "Man's a ruddy slave driver."

Ginny nodded. "I know, and I'm sorry to ask, but..." She trailed off again.

"Go on then. What are you thinking?" Neville was curious. He was always interested in new ideas to harass the Carrows, and he knew he couldn't pretend less interest in Snape. Not that he wanted to at the moment anyway, not the way the man had gone at him earlier.

"It's about the Sword of Gryffindor. Dumbledore left it to Harry, probably to help him in defeating You-Know-Who. But Snape kept it here. But Harry probably really, really needs the sword."

Neville nodded. He remembered hearing about that whole altercation. "What about it?"

Ginny took a deep breath. "Luna and I were thinking...and we've suggested this to the others...if we could create a big enough mess to make Snape come investigate it, then you'd probably be locked up there again. Then, while he's occupied with that, you could let us in, and Luna and I could snitch the sword and hide it, then send it to Harry, some way or the other."

Neville felt his stomach lurch. He took a deep breath. "It's pretty risky. Snape's bound to notice it gone, you know."

"Well, yes, but if he doesn't know who stole it, then it'll be fine. Luna and I will make sure to have alibis, you know."

Neville nodded. "What about the wards? He guards his stuff pretty tight."

Ginny frowned. "Well, if you were in the office, he'd have to have some wards down for you to be there, wouldn't he? And if you let us in, then it won't tell them someone's trying to break into his office, because technically no one is. Luna told me you heard Snape's warding incantation for his Potions stores, so it shouldn't be too hard to hear the ones on his office, right?"

Neville took another breath, thinking about it. "Maybe. I dunno though. It's a risk. And anyway, what if he locks me in the dungeon instead? Then you'll have gotten everyone involved in your diversion into trouble, and it'll be for nothing."

"Well, that is a risk. But we're all risking ourselves anyway. And if there's a chance...Harry needs that sword. If he can use it to stop You-Know-Who, then that'll take the Carrows and Snape out of power too. I've asked some of the others, and they think it's worth it." She met his eyes. "All we need is for you to agree." She frowned. "If you aren't locked in the office, send a message with the coin, and we'll break it off."

Neville nodded slowly. She was right, that they were all at risk anyway. And she had a point. Harry did probably need the sword. If her plan worked, it would be a serious blow at the Death Eaters and the Dark Lord. "What were you thinking, for the diversion?"

"Starting a fight with the Discipline Squad. You know they're always ragging Seamus and some of the others, like Colin, for being part-blood or muggle-born. We thought we'd give them a chance to do it again, then fight back this time. It wouldn't even be all that staged. _We've_ all been itching to take them down a peg or two, and we know that _they've_ all been looking to have their version of fun." She spat the last word in disgust.

Neville had to agree. It was the best diversion he could think of. Of course all the teachers, including the Headmaster, would have to step in to stop a full-blown fight. "All right. But wait till I give you the go-ahead, okay? It might take me a few days to find out Snape's warding spells and the counters. Especially if the rotten git keeps taking my wand away." Snape hadn't for the past two days, but he didn't tell her that.

Ginny nodded. "That's fine. Luna and I will need a couple of days to finish planning anyway, and the others have to do some preparation so no one gets too badly hurt in the fighting, or afterward, since we probably won't all get away unscathed." Another grimace twisted her features. Then she sighed. "Well, if we're going to do this, then we'd best get plenty of sleep."

Neville inclined his head in agreement, then packed away the rest of his books and headed up to his dorms. But as he got into bed, he was turning over Ginny's plan in his head. Despite how correct she was, it was a dangerous plan. And if they got caught, there'd be hell to pay. Snape probably would throw them to the mercy of the Carrows. Of course, he might not, if Neville told him first. But even though he'd given Snape one of their coins, it was a bit different from telling the man what they were planning. After all, he hadn't given him the codes for it, and they hadn't planned a meeting since he'd done so. He was still pondering it as he fell asleep.

The next day passed in a bit of a blur. Neville did his best to pay attention and stay out of trouble, but he was still pondering Snape's behavior and Ginny's plan, and slipped up twice, losing focus in class. Fortunately, his teachers were Sprout and Flitwick, and they just gave him sympathetic smiles, no doubt attributing it to his continuous detentions with Snape, and lack of sleep.

Finally, classes were over, and he made his way up to Snape's office. His heart was pounding, and he felt jittery with anxiety. It had been one thing to offer to help, late at night, after hearing the truth about Snape and watching him deal with the after-effects of torture. It was another thing entirely to voluntarily expose his fellow DA members by revealing their plans. It felt like betrayal, never mind that he and Snape were supposedly working together.

Finally, he made it to the office, and knocked on the heavy door. Snape's voice called for him to enter, and he stepped inside. "Headmaster."

"In. And put your things there." Snape gestured impatiently. Neville did, while Snape threw a spell down the stairway, shut the door, and cast several more spells. "There. We shall not be disturbed, nor overheard, not without warning." He threw another spell at the fireplace, presumably to block floo calls.

Neville nodded. "It's safe to talk normally then?"

"For the moment." Snape scowled at him, though he didn't look particularly angry.

Neville studied him a moment, then spoke quickly. "Last night...what you said...what did you mean, anyway? About bringing me up to standard? I'm not failing anything. Not even close, unless you want to count with the Carrows and I'd rather not be passing with those two."

Snape's scowl deepened. "Nevertheless, unless you wish to be hunted, further than you already are, then it would well behoove you to watch your steps around them. As for what I meant..." His scowl deepened. "You are, perhaps, passing your classes, but the strictures currently in place will not permit you to learn what you must to survive. And as for the past six years of schooling..." A sneer touched his face. "Between Quirell, Lockhart and Umbridge, and the various...distractions, you have come to war ill-prepared. And as you have only the barest minimal sense of preservation, it falls to me to correct that, little as I wish to do any such thing."

Neville could see his point. Quirell had been useless, Lockhart a joke. Lupin had been all right, and Moody, and Snape's teaching had been dead useful, even if he'd been terrified out of his mind. Umbridge had been even worse than Lockhart, both useless and sadistic. "Reckon you're right. Although...we did learn some dead useful stuff in DA, fifth year, and on our own."

"Not enough to protect you, or any of those other idiot who persist in antagonizing the Carrows." Snape sneered again.

For a moment, Neville felt anger rising in him. Then he remembered the Carrows nearly cursing him to death, and the rage faded. Snape was right. They'd been lucky so far, but only because the Dark Lord had given orders for purebloods to be unharmed, and because Snape and the other teachers were running interference. "So what do you plan to do? With me, I mean."

"Teach you. Make no mistake, Longbottom." Snape's face was grim. "I will not be gentle. If you fail to measure up, you will pay the price." Neville saw Snape's hand clench slightly tighter around his wand. "You are quite likely to hate me before the first hour is out, and it will get worse. But everything I teach is what may save your life."

Neville swallowed hard. "Can I ask you what you do plan to teach me, sir?"

"Spells for combat. Some of them are classed as Dark Magic. Some of them are not, but should be. Applications of spells you know, to render them combat spells. And, the part you will hate me for the most, I will teach you how to endure such things, how to judge to a fine line what you can and cannot handle, and how to push that line further still." Neville felt the blood draining from his face. Snape noticed, and the sneer slipped into a grim, stony expression. "Yes, that means precisely what it sounds like. I will push you, exhaust you, torture you if I must, because enduring and standing back up is sometimes the only thing that saves you. Likewise, knowing your limit and when _not_ to stand up."

"You're going to torture me and use Dark Magic? Make me learn Dark Magic? Sounds a lot like the Carrows." Neville felt his heart pounding even louder, and he had a definite urge to run from the room, run to McGonnagall or Pomfrey, even if they could do nothing. Or curse Snape as a bloody lying traitorous bastard.

"There is very little difference, save in intent. And that I shall do what I can to limit what you endure. You have my word that I will be as careful as I can, and do no damage I cannot heal before I release you." Snape's expression was as grim as he'd ever seen it, darker and harder even than when Neville had spied on him.

Neville swallowed hard. He understood what Snape was saying, and it made an awful sort of sense. But he didn't like it. "I don't see why you want me to learn Dark Magic sir."

Snape regarded him unblinkingly, then spoke slowly, softly, in a tone that made Neville's blood run cold. "Tell me, Longbottom...do you get angry? Do you hate the Carrows, the Death Eaters, the Dark Lord? Me, perhaps?"

Neville nodded. Snape regarded him coldly. "That anger is a weapon, or a weakness. It can be channeled to make you reckless, or make you strong. So far, you have erred to the side of foolishness. While I doubt any amount of training can undo that Gryffindor idiocy of yours, it can be better managed."

"And the Dark magic?"

Snape's glare chilled even further. "If your classmates were in danger, and the only spell you could think of was lethal one, would you use it?"

Neville bit his lip. "Maybe. If I couldn't find another way."

"If the only way to stop a Death Eater about to kill, Mr. Finnegan perhaps, was to utter the killing Curse? Or the Cruciatus? Would you cast it?" Snape's gaze held him in place.

"I dunno." He felt his hands shaking, his stomach clenching. He was suddenly glad he hadn't eaten since lunch.

"That hesitancy will kill you, or those you profess to care about. On the battlefield, or in any confrontation. You must know what you can do, that you can cast anything, even an Unforgivable, or even a split second will end in disaster. Understood?" Snape's eyes bored into him.

Neville swallowed again, then nodded. "Yes sir." He didn't like it, but he did understand, and there was something ugly and dark in Snape's gaze that made him think the Headmaster knew exactly what he was talking about. "Sir, isn't it dangerous for you to teach me this?"

Snape snorted. "Quite. However, I fully intend to define it as part of my detention. There have been rumors lately that I am too lenient with you. These little...lessons, will hopefully counter them. That I heal you will only be interpreted as obedience to the Dark Lord's orders to leave you relatively unharmed." He frowned again. "I shall of course, also look over your homework, and mark it viciously. I would advise you to re-copy it with much anger and defiance, and later incorporate the notes into what you do with your little group."

Neville nodded. Snape stared at him, then turned away. A flick of his wand produced some food. "Eat."

Neville settled down to the sandwich, his mind turning over what Snape had told him. He didn't much like it, and he was dreading it, definitely, but it made a terrible sort of sense. He glanced up at the thin back of his professor, wondering how Snape had learned it all. It sounded uncomfortably like he'd gotten first hand experience with the whole process, and if just thinking about it made Neville's stomach turn, he didn't like to think about living through it. He had the ugly feeling that no one had been around to explain things or patch Snape up. He shoved that thought away quickly.

There was a part of his mind whispering that Snape was going to enjoy this, that it was a sort of vengeance for annoying the man all those years. But another part of him was remembering Snape's words and the grim expression on his face. He didn't look like he was going to enjoy it. He looked like he'd rather not be doing it.

Neville grimaced and set aside the remainder of his sandwich. If Snape could do things he didn't wish to do, so could Neville. "Sir, there's something I need to tell you."

Snape turned and gave him one of his disconcerting stares. Neville swallowed hard, and resolutely shoved away the butterflies in his stomach. "Ginny and Luna sir, they're planning to steal the sword of Gryffindor. They want me to help them." Snape's eyebrow rose. Neville swallowed hard again, feeling wretchedly like a traitor. "They want me to steal the passwords to your office, then the DA is going to stage a fight with the Discipline Squad to distract you, while they sneak up here and nick it."

Snape's face paled a fraction, and he abruptly turned away with a curse. "Little idiotic fools. You honestly think I ward only the doors to my office, or that I do not have ways of monitoring anything and everything that happens in here?"

Neville felt slightly queasy. "No sir. I tried to tell her it was too risky. But she's dead set on it. Says Harry needs the sword, so she's determined to give it to him."

Snape bit off another curse word. "While I agree with her assessment that Potter does indeed require the sword of Gryffindor for his work, this is not the time. Furthermore, there are specific conditions which must be met to retain the sword, and none of them will be fulfilled by having it stolen." One hand clenched on the back of the Headmaster's chair, the lean knuckles turning white with the pressure.

Neville shrugged. "I dunno how I can stop her, sir. I got her to wait a bit, telling her it might take me some time to get the passwords and all. But she's pretty stubborn."

"Like every other Weasley idiot and Potter obsessed moron to set foot in this school." The words were all but snarled over Snape's shoulder. "Be silent."

Neville snapped his mouth shut. His insides were churning uncomfortably. He wished he'd kept his mouth shut. But still...there was no telling what would have happened if he hadn't told Snape. Maybe they'd have pulled it off, but he doubted it. Whatever else was true of him, the man was paranoid. Hell, he'd cast at least six warding and locking spells just to hold this conversation. Neville just hoped the man would have a solution to their dilemma.

Snape stood still for a long moment, the only movement his fingers shifting restlessly on the chair back. Finally, he turned, took his seat, and gestured roughly for Neville to take another chair near his desk. "In regards to this foolish plan your cohorts have conducted...you will do as they ask."

Neville blinked. "What?"

"Do as they ask." Snape folded his hands, then met Neville's gaze over top of them. "You will, after a suitable delay of some days, inform them that you have overheard my wards, and overheard the passwords I use to counter them. You will then report yourself for detention in my office, and alert your compatriots to begin their little distraction, while you, Miss Weasley, and Miss Lovegood make a rather lamentable and foolhardy attempt to steal the sword."

Neville stared at him. "You're going to let us steal it?"

Snape snorted and scowled at him. "Of course not. My reputation, both here and within the Dark Lord's circle, would fall dangerously should such an amateur attempt at burglary succeed. No. I fully intend to catch you at your misdeed. Of course, my fury at your intrusion and attempt at thievery shall quite distract me from the matter of students brawling in the corridors." He took a deep breath. "I trust you and your little band of rebels realize that you cannot hope to evade all punishment from the Carrows for this. Nor can I mitigate their reaction."

Neville nodded. "We know. But we thought it might be worth it, to help Harry." He swallowed. "Ginny, Luna and I are going to get twice as bad, aren't we?" For himself, he'd manage, but the other two...even if Ginny and Luna were tough and able to take care of themselves...

Snape took another deep breath, flattening his hands on the desk. "As you shall be encroaching on my domain, removing valuable school artifacts from my office, the punishment will be mine to administer. I shall, of course, be irate at catching you. And rest assured, it will be me, and no other, who finds you red-handed." The older man sighed, and the mask of vicious anger and annoyance slipped just a little. "I shall do what I can, that it will not be too terrible, though I've no doubt the Carrows will add to my punishment in the classrooms and hallways, as they can. That, however, will be your problem."

Neville nodded. He could live with that. And he was almost beginning to believe Snape, when the man said he'd protect them. But he still had one more question. "Why sir? Why are you letting us do this?"

Snape grimaced, and his narrow fingers twitched restlessly. "Because, in spite of the inconvenience, this represents an opportunity." He laced his finger's together, raised an eyebrow at Neville's questioning expression. "The Sword of Gryffindor in the case is a fake. It was replaced weeks ago, in preparation for the time Potter will receive the real one. However, an attempted theft provides an opportunity for removal, leaving less danger of the forgery being discovered, and less room for comment. Moreover, it will be a chance to evaluate your little army in action, as well as the precariousness of your position, along with Weasley and Lovegood. Beyond that..." He paused, and a brief flicker of unease crossed the stern visage. "Of late, I have been consistent in how I discipline you. An attempt to steal the sword provides perfect motivation for my behavior to suddenly escalate to dangerous proportions, such as the lessons we previously discussed. Theft is a serious matter in the Wizarding world, and even McGonagall cannot intervene overmuch in such circumstances. I shall let it be known that I am singling you out because I have already given you multiple warnings and am determined to thrash the lesson into you."

Neville frowned. The argument made sense to him, but it also brought up another question. "Sir, if I'm meant to be practicing combat spells and all, who am I going practice with? I mean, how am I going to know if I'm doing it right and all?"

A grim sneer tightened Snape's mouth. "Surely even you can figure that out, Longbottom, given that there will be only two people in this room."

Neville stared at him. "You're seriously going to let me hex you, sir?" His hand tightened into a fist. "Why? So you can give me more detentions?"

Snape's jaw tightened, and his hand slammed onto the desk. "There is no other way!" He stalked forward, black eyes snapping with anger. "You asked to be a partner in this, to receive and give help. That I agreed is against my better judgment. Unless you wish for me to Obliviate you and return to our former patterns of behavior..."

"I don't." Neville held up his hands. "Look, four years ago you scared me more than anything else in the world. Three weeks ago, I thought you were a murderer, and a worse monster than the Carrows. How do you expect me to respond when you say things like that?"

A muscle in Snape's jaw tightened. "You might consider being grateful, that I am even attempting to better prepare you for what is coming. Perhaps, you might consider what it means, that I am willing to let you even attempt to cast such spells in my direction. Or did you think I do such things often? I have offered the opportunity to only one other student, and the results were more dismal even than your lamentable attempts at potion making. Or perhaps, you are fool enough to believe I enjoy the idea of getting hexed, of letting a teenage brat with no respect for authority even make an attempt to put me under the Cruciatus?"

The words hit Neville like a brick wall. His anger vanished, smothered under the implications of Snape's words. He paused, thinking. A month ago, he would have jumped at a chance to hex Snape, with no possible repercussions. And these were things that he and the rest of the DA needed to know, if they were going to survive. The Carrows were proof, if they'd needed any more, that the Death Eaters and followers of the Dark Lord wouldn't hesitate to use any nasty spell they could think of.

Snape was still staring at him, jaw tight, eyes dark with anger. Neville swallowed, and forced his hands to relax. "You're right sir. I'm sorry. It's just a bit...well, off, you know? I do appreciate what you're doing for us, sir. I just haven't gotten used to it. Besides...if you asked me last month to try and curse you, I'd have jumped for it. But now...I dunno, it feels wrong. Knowing that you're helping us, knowing that You-Know-Who is hurting you for it...I don't know that I want to add to it." He found himself smiling, somewhat bitterly. "A month ago I would have loved this opportunity. Now I feel like I'd rather be stuck in double Dark Arts classes."

Snape snorted. "Being forewarned, I am quite capable of mitigating the effects of almost everything you can throw at me. More to the point, I highly doubt a child of your particular temperament is even remotely capable of casting any sort of harmful spell with the same intensity as the Dark Lord." He paused. "As for your dilemma..." A bitter smile not unlike Neville's own crossed the narrow features. "I'm sure you will manage to overcome it soon enough."

Neville nodded. "I know. But still...I do appreciate it. I guess you'll just have to give me more time to deal with all this." He squared his shoulders. "Anyway, I'll try not to let you down, sir."

Snape regarded him coldly. "See that you do. I have no time to waste, and you have very little." They stared at each other, then Snape waved a wand, and the small writing desk and parchment appeared, along with a quill and ink. "I believe, Mr. Longbottom, that you have a detention to start. For tonight, I will settle for you explaining to me the code by which you communicate to your fellow DA members."

Neville nodded, relaxing under a familiar, simple expectation. "We can send words sir, but it's mostly symbols and dates and stuff..." He moved over to the desk and settled down into it, and Snape moved to hover over one shoulder.

They spent the remainder of that night and the next discussing the DA communications system, the dangers and the safeties, including how to break the charm on the coin, and how the 'sneak' hex that Hermione had put on the coins operated, if someone betrayed them. Snape looked mildly impressed. "Interesting. It is fortunate that the Dark Lord does not have something similar." His right hand moved, to absently brush the left, where the Dark Mark was covered by his clothing.

Neville nodded. "Hermione's scary brilliant sometimes." He was actually rather surprised he hadn't been hit by the hex, after giving Snape a coin. But then, Snape had proven he was on their side. Of course, that left the question of what would happen to Snape if he went against the DA. "Sir...that hex..."

"I will dismantle it from the coin you have given me, for safety's sake." Snape had already pulled the galleon out of his robes and was considering it, scowling at the coin. "Miss Granger is talented, however, she is hardly the only one."

Neville had no doubt that Snape's coin would be hex-free by the end of the night, with the way the man was staring at it. He nodded, and went back to explaining things. After a moment, Snape re-pocketed the coin and joined him.

The night after that, they went back to their regular routine, Neville cleaning, Snape watching and making acidic remarks, though now the man went over his homework as well, making comments, and writing all over the margins. It annoyed him, given that the man wasn't even his teacher anymore. But when he looked over his homework back in the tower that evening, he found several useful tips, in amongst the scathing criticisms. He copied those out and stowed them away in his trunk for safety, then took his work down to the common room with a curse, complaining bitterly about how he'd have to redo his essays, after the bastard had marked them up so bad. It earned him plenty of sympathy with the others, at least.

Two days after that, Ginny had started sending him impatient looks across the common room. She was clearly itching to move. The others were restless as well. No one said anything, trusting him to handle the details, but there was a feel in the air, and edge of added aggression towards the Discipline Squad and the Carrows. As he headed toward detention Thursday night, Neville was honestly worried the fight would start, and not just as a diversion for the theft.

Snape met him in the doorway to the office. "Cleaning again tonight, Longbottom." A sneer curled his upper lip. "I understand two of the Potions classes made quite a mess down there. I'm sure they're all pleased to know they have such an..._excellent_...older student to clean up after them." The emphasis on excellent made it clear the opposite was meant. Neville flushed, but didn't reply. He simply set his books to one side within the office and stood there, his face red with anger and embarrassment.

Snape led him down to one of the lower dungeons. There was a mess down there, but it wasn't nearly as bad as he'd expected. Snape conjured the usual cleaning supplies, then settled back to watch. Even as he bent to his task, Neville spotted the subtle flick of Snape's wand that meant he was warding the room. He felt himself relax slightly. They didn't talk most nights, but he'd wanted to have a word with Snape. He set to cleaning, waiting for the other man to speak, knowing he would only when it was safe.

The thought surprised him for a moment. When had he begun learning to wait for Snape, and trusting his experience? It was worrying. He focused on his cleaning, scowling at the unidentifiable crap that was on the desk. He scrubbed at it, then bent to scrub it harder, annoyance overtaking his relaxation.

Snape spoke, startling him slightly. "Tomorrow night."

Neville jumped, then set his scrub brush down and turned. "What's tomorrow night?"

Snape snorted impatiently. "Honestly, have you already forgotten, Longbottom? Your little plan, concerning the theft of the Gryffindor sword?" One dark eyebrow rose mockingly.

Neville grimaced. "Right. I think everyone's looking forward to the fight, to be honest." He straightened and stretched his back. "You want us to go through with it tomorrow?"

"Indeed. Tomorrow's detention will involve cleaning my office, and writing lines. You will, as soon as you think I am not looking, inform your friends."

"I get it, I get it." Neville frowned. "Why tomorrow night, sir?"

"Because, the current level of tension within this school cannot be maintained much longer." Neville blinked, and Snape awarded him another cool, mocking look. "Oh yes. I am aware of the rising antagonism between your little band of rebels and the Carrows and their Discipline Squad. It's obvious to anyone with eyes that you are all positively spoiling for a fight." His eyes clouded, and something almost like a grimace crossed the narrow face. "In addition, an incident tomorrow night gives me the weekend to deal with the inevitable consequences." His gaze flicked back to Neville. "And to make sure your detention is carried out before we begin our work on Monday."

Neville nodded. "Sir."

Snape regarded him for a long moment. "Finish your work." Neville nodded, and turned back to the desk.

Snape finally released him, just before curfew. Neville raced back to the Tower, his head whirling, his stomach heavy with anticipation. Somehow, he wasn't surprised to see Ginny waiting for him in the common room. "Hey Neville."

"Hey." He saw the question in her eyes. "I think I've got most of the passwords. Should be soon."

"All right." She nodded.

The next day was hard. The tension between the Discipline Squad and the DA threatened to result in sparks. Ginny was stiff with impatience. Luna was calmer, but there was a sharpness in her eyes that wasn't normally present. Neville found himself fingering his coin throughout the day. By the time Muggle Studies came around, he was more than willing to add fuel to the fire, acting sullen in class. He didn't dare confront Alecto directly, afraid the situation would explode, but by the time she hauled him to detention, they were both furious.

Snape met them at the door to his office, scowling as usual. "Problems?"

"Brat's still disrespectful. Still think you oughta let me string him up." Alecto sneered the words, her fingers pinching Neville's arm.

"Well, if he's progressed from fighting with the staff to simple disrespect, then we're making progress, aren't we?" One dark eyebrow rose in a mocking look. Neville flushed red, and Alecto did as well. Then Snape seized Neville's arm and yanked him forward. "Inside."

Neville stumbled across the threshold, and Snape shut the door in Alecto's face. He stood by the door a moment, then turned and gestured curtly to where the familiar cleaning supplies were leaning against the desk. "You have work to do."

Neville nodded. He picked up the dust cloth and moved to one side of the door. There wasn't much dust, courtesy of the House Elves, but Snape made him dust and polish the shelves anyway. Several things were warded, sparking against his fingers. He winced the first time, and was rewarded with a mocking sneer. He scowled sullenly back, then went back to his work, trying to be more careful.

Neville dusted around a quarter of the room, then slipped one hand into his pocket. A quick look assured him that Snape was looking the other way, working on paperwork at his desk. He linked his fingers around the coin, and sent a quick message. _'Go.'_ Then he yanked his hand out of his pocket and went back to work.

Twenty minutes later, there was an alarm. The fireplace flared green, and Slughorn's voice boomed out of the flames. "Riot in the corridors, Headmaster. The students are fighting."

Snape cursed in response. Black eyes met Neville's for a moment, then Snape rose with snarl. "If you set one foot out of this office, Longbottom, you will pay for it. Continue your detention." Then he was gone.

Neville swallowed, feeling his palms go suddenly hot and sweaty. He swiped at a few more shelves, more from nerves than obedience, then moved to the door and threw it open, looking down the stairs.

A minute later, Ginny and Luna came sneaking up the stairs, both with their wands out. "Neville. Everything ready?"

"Ready as it can be, I think. But I can't swear to it. Man's more paranoid than anyone else I've ever met." Neville made a face. "There's wards on everything."

"Well, I suppose we'll just have to take our chances, won't we." Ginny made a similar expression, but neither of them stopped.

Neville nodded and stepped back to let them in. The sword was in the case on Snape's desk. Ginny examined it. "There isn't a catch."

"Well, we might try lifting it." Luna's voice was quiet, considering.

Neville moved over and the three of them tried it. The base came with the top. Neville grimaced. "Now what? We'd better hurry. Snape'll probably be back soon. I know he expects me to be dusting, but still..."

"Well, then we'll just have to do this the fast way." Ginny scowled, then pointed her wand at the case. "Reducto." The glass cracked and shattered.

Neville grimaced. "No way Snape'll miss that. We'd better hurry." He threw his outer robe over the sword, to protect their hands against the glass, then lifted it up. "Damn, it's heavier than it looks."

Ginny grabbed the hilt. "Never mind that. Let's just get out of here, before Snape catches us."

Neville nodded. "You two take the sword and go. I've got to stay here. Snape said he'd know if I left the office." Suddenly, his Galleon heated, and saw Ginny and Luna jump as well.

Ginny grimaced. "I told them to signal if Snape left the fight. That means he's coming."

"Right. Let's go then." He moved aside so Ginny and Luna could balance the blade between them, then threw open the door. It was clear. He gestured, and both girls moved across the room, trying to use the trailing edges of their robes to mask the flow of the robes draped over the sword.

Ginny took the lead. She looked as far as she could, but the curve of the stairwell made it impossible to see. She took a deep breath, and she and Luna raced for the stairwell. She'd just hit the second step when Snape appeared on the stairs, his face set in lines of fury.

Everyone froze. Snape's face was white with anger. Luna's face was it's usual impassive stare, but Ginny's was hard with defiance. Finally, Luna broke the silence. "Headmaster."

"Miss Lovegood." Black eyes drifted over the group. "Miss Weasley. And...Mr. Longbottom." His gaze touched each of them in turn, flat and dark and cold as ice. "And what might you three be doing?"

Ginny glared back at him. "We wanted to make sure Neville was all right."

"Indeed. A group of Gryffindor trouble makers starts a riot in the halls, and you...wanted to make sure...that Mr. Longbottom was all right." The words were slow, mocking, a sneer across his thin features. "So, you chose to come to my office and break in, for Mr. Longbottom."

There was a long moment of tense silence. Then Snape's hand darted forward, faster than Neville could really see, and caught Ginny's arm. She started, jostling backward, and the robes slipped away to reveal the hilt of the Gryffindor Sword. Snape's nostrils flared, fire snapping in the black eyes. He snapped his fingers. "Give that to me at once."

Ginny backed up. "It's Harry's. Dumbledore left it to him."

"I could not care less what Potter supposedly received from Dumbledore. That sword belongs in my office and you will return it...immediately." He clicked his fingers.

Ginny shook her head. "No. It's Harry's."

Snape made another of those lightning fast strikes and seized her arm. A twist of her wrist made her gasp, and her grip loosened. Snape caught the hilt from her hand. Luna wisely let go before the blade could cut her hands. Neville darted forward. "Hey."

"Silence." The look Snape gave him made his breath catch in his throat. "We have not even begun to discuss the trouble you are in, Mr. Longbottom."

"Headmaster." Alecto's voice at the bottom of the stairs made all of them stiffen. "Headmaster? Something going on up there?" Alecto came up the stairs, Amycus right behind her. Both Carrows stopped short as they came up the stairs. "What's this then?"

"It appears Longbottom, Weasley and Lovegood were attempting to steal the sword for Potter." Snape's sneer was sharp enough to cut glass. "It seems to have occurred to none of them that I ward everything in my office."

Alecto's eyes widened, and Amycus snickered. "Right then. These three are due a long spell in the dungeon. Good long session of the Cruciatus, spot of torture. Got some curses we haven't used on Longbottom yet, and a few old favorites. Give us the weekend, brats'll be sorry."

Alecto stepped forward and grabbed Ginny's arm, tugging her sharply forward. Ginny stumbled on the stairs, just missing a bad fall, and Alecto sneered. Luna stepped forward, and Alecto shoved Ginny toward Amycus and grabbed her. Luna winced as Alecto's nails cut into her arm. Alecto pointed her wand at Neville. "Come on then, Longbottom."

Neville felt his chest tighten with fear. He looked at Snape's face, but it was set in a cold mask, tight with contempt and loathing. Neville's heart began pounding. _Thought he was going to protect us._ A full weekend in the dungeon sounded like a death sentence. He remembered the last time the Carrows had taken a free rein with him, and cold fear poured over him. He wasn't sure he could handle it, and Ginny and Luna...cold sweat broke out on his brow. Words escaped his mouth before he could stop it. "You ruddy bastard."

Amycus snickered again. "That'll earn you a few more. Come on then. Take your punishment like a man, little boy."

Neville stared at Snape with loathing for another moment, then turned away and slid past Alecto and Luna. His heart was heavy with betrayal and anger. _Bastard. He set us up._ He felt sick, that he'd even thought of believing Snape, no matter what Dumbledore's portrait had said.

They reached the bottom of the stairs just as McGonagall came around the hallway. She stopped dead at the sight of the Carrows escorting the three of them. "What is the meaning of this?"

Amycus sneered. "Brats were caught stealing from the Headmaster. They're due to learn a lesson, and a sharp one."

McGonagall paled visibly. "You can't be serious."

"Quite serious." Neville jumped. He hadn't realized Snape had followed them down the stairs. "They attempted to steal the Sword of Gryffindor. The case has been shattered."

McGonagall paled further. "Surely...an accident..."

"Since I arrived to find them attempting to cart it down the stairs, I assure you, it was no accident." Snape's voice was cool.

McGonagall stiffened, and Neville saw the hopelessness in her eyes. "And what did you plan to do with them?"

One eyebrow rose. "I had intended to send them to the dungeons. However, as it seems all three have problems learning from such measures...I have a far more appropriate idea." Black eyes surveyed all three of them. "If they desire to be heroes so much, then heroes they can be. Send them to the Forbidden Forest."

McGonagall's eyes widened. "The Forbidden Forest?"

"Certainly." A sneer curled his lip. "Have Hagrid give them a crossbow or whatever it is he uses, leave their wands at the castle, and send them in. I understand Slughorn has ingredients he needs collected, as well as Hagrid's usual patrolling duties. If they're feeling so brave, I'm sure these three can handle such mundane duties for the weekend."

McGonagall stared at him. "You can't be serious."

"Indeed I am." The sneer deepened. "Furthermore, I shall be keeping Mr. Longbottom in detention until he learns his lesson. Whatever methods I must use."

Dismay washed over her face. "You can't be serious about the forest. The centaurs are have all but declared war on us, there's who knows what roaming inside. I've had reports of...of werewolves, Acromantulas, a rogue giant, all sorts of dangerous creatures. Sending three students out, without their wands or protection...it's murder."

"Your point? After having them attempt to steal from my office, I have a right to do whatever I please." Snape's voice was cold, and McGonagall stiffened further. "If they want to play hero with Potter and his little band, then they can take the risks. If they die, then it's one less concern. I hardly need their continuing antics. And if they live...perhaps they'll have learned a lesson. If not..." An ugly expression twisted his face. "Well then, perhaps sterner methods can be used."

"Sterner methods?" McGonagall's voice was faint.

Amycus grinned. "Make an example of them, will we Snape?"

"Perhaps. In the meantime...lock them in the dungeons for the evening, and send them to the Forest in the morning." Snape's face had relaxed from sneers to boredom. His gaze slipped to the Carrows. "Chain them if you wish, but nothing else. I've no desire to face a feeding frenzy if the brats draw the forest inhabitants by bleeding all over the place."

Alecto nodded. "What if they try to run?"

Snape smiled unpleasantly. "Then they'll encounter the wards I've set up to prevent it. I suspect we'll all find it highly...entertaining." The tone of his words sent cold chills down Neville's spine.

"Right." Amycus snickered again. He delivered a sneer in McGonagall's direction, then dragged Ginny toward the dungeons. Alecto yanked sharply on Luna's arm, and prodded Neville with her wand to make him move. As he turned away, Neville saw Snape turn and vanish back up the stairs, disappearing before McGonagall could speak further to him. He allowed Alecto to shove him toward the dungeons, his thoughts whirling.

The Forbidden Forest. Well, the centaurs could be persuaded not to hurt students. They were fierce and dangerous, but there were worse things. Hagrid would warn them away from the dangerous areas. Harry had told him about the Acromantulas, he and Ginny both. He didn't know about a giant, but Hagrid probably did. Two days in the Forbidden Forest did sound nerve-wracking, but still, it was far better than the Carrows.

Realization hit him. Snape had planned it all. He'd kept his promise after all. A detention in the forest was dangerous and uncomfortable, certainly, but compared to a weekend in the dungeons, it was a picnic. A little luck and they'd be able to avoid getting more than scrapes. All three of them had some experience with the forest. In spite of McGonagall's fear, it wouldn't be nearly as bad as she thought.

Alecto shoved him into a cell, snapped a too-tight cuff on him, and left him. Neville didn't even fight too much. His mind was still thinking over what had happened. _He made it sound like he was sending us out to get killed. But...he knows we've been to the forest. He knows about the detention first year, me and Harry. And he knows about the thestrals, the end of fifth year._ Grudging admiration touched his mind. _He knows damn well what he's doing. It's still bloody dangerous, but still..._ He'd thought Snape had betrayed them.

The night's excitement and the lack of dinner caught up with him abruptly. Neville sighed, then settled against the wall. The shackle pulled uncomfortably, but he didn't care. He suspected he was going to need his rest.

_**Author's Note: **Plenty of drama between these two, but they might be learning to trust each other. Let me know what you think.  
_

_Some Additional Notes:  
_

_+ When Snape says he let one other student curse him: During Occlumency lessons (in book 5), he told Harry he could use whatever magic he wanted to throw him out of his mind, or defend himself. Which included at least one instance when Harry hexed him.  
_

_+ The forest in Neville's first year: In the movies, it was Harry, Ron, Hermione and Draco. In the book, it was Neville instead of Ron.  
_

_Just some points that I wanted to clear up, for those that may not have read the books, or at least not as recently as they've watched the movies. It can be a little confusing sometimes, I think.  
_


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